The Heart Is A Muscle
by thebackupkid
Summary: Tasked with retrieving a magical item known as the 'Crystal', Annabeth's confident in her success. But she and her group, the Elites, aren't the only ones searching for the artefact. With her skills and logic, she must work together with an ex-Elite fighter, Percy, to overcome the factions and obstacles to reach it first; and control her growing feelings towards the ex-Elite.
1. Chapter 1

**The Heart Is A Muscle**

_"Cause the heart, the heart, the heart | The heart is a muscle | __And I wanna make it strong"__ \- Gang of Youths, 'The Heart Is A Muscle'_

**_As always, these characters do not belong to me._**

**Chapter One**

* * *

The noise was the first thing that hit Annabeth, followed closely by the smell. She wrinkled her nose as she delved deeper into the sweat, spilt ale, blood and piss that accosted her sense of smell, pushing through the crowd that had come to see blood sprayed all over the dirt. She never understood the attraction towards the underground fights held under bars and taverns, but she had been entrusted with a task and there was no way she was going to fail.

Luke had stressed the importance of the task she had been bestowed and she knew that he regarded her as the only one in his congregation able to complete it. This warmed her, even as she passed the sweaty and yelling crowd, ale splashing all over her coat and boots. She longed to return to Luke's side and bask in his praise, and, she hoped, other things. He hadn't expressed his feelings towards her, but she knew he held an affection to her, as she did to him. Maybe her success with this mission would finally have him admitting it to her, but first she had to find Luke's old friend Percy and convince him to help her.

Annabeth scowled as the crowd yelled at whatever was happening in the fighting pit and for the next minute, she struggled to get closer. She had insisted that she would be able to find this 'Crystal' he was searching for alone, but Luke negated her assurances with a few firm words. This Percy, whoever he was, had been rumoured to have gotten past the defences surrounding the item, extensive and perilous as they were, twice. Each time he had failed to retrieve the Crystal, eventually becoming a guardian to it, or so the rumours went, warning off any and all who would dare try to follow his steps.

Armed with very little knowledge of his whereabouts, Annabeth had set out with high confidence in tracking him down but it wasn't until three weeks after hard searching that she had received vague gestures and shrugs that he could have been 'in that town over yonder'. She could hardly believe he was that much of ghost, especially considering the description Luke had given her. That town over yonder turned fruitful and brought Annabeth to the fighting match under the local tavern.

The ale was almost as stale as the air Annabeth was struggling to breathe in, finally getting in a position where she had a near full view of the room. The crowd, mostly men jeering and encouraging the fighters in the centre while throwing their coins to the bookies, were a mixture from all classes. The rich with their clean-cut demeanour, attire, hair and boots, to the middle class, their clothes a little worn and dirty but still somewhat respectable to the gamblers barely hanging onto the clothes on their backs. Women also mingled amongst the men, their attention not so much on the outcome of the fight, but on the shirtless men, both in the dirt fighting pit and awaiting their turn on the outskirts if the giggles Annabeth had to endure standing next to were any indication.

From the chatter Annabeth had overheard and the subtle prodding for information, Percy was to be one of the fighters in the pit tonight. Ignoring the roar of approval from the crowd at the current fight, she couldn't help but dimly notice how chatty one of the fighters were. Cocky. Teasing. He would have to be careful he didn't get those taunts punched back into his mouth, but the crowd lapped it up, causing a roll from her eyes. She scanned the waiting fighters and those who had fought earlier and were either seeking medical treatment or basking in their victory with a few ales, matching their appearance to Luke's description of Percy. Broad shoulders. Tall. Black hair. Tanned or most likely to be. Green eyes. When none matched it, she could only deduce he was one of the fighters in the ring and it was then that the cocky fighter yelled out daringly.

"Oh come on! You can hit harder than that!"

So that was the Percy Luke had wanted her to find. She didn't like him. Not if he behaved the same out of a fighting ring as he did in. He laughed, acknowledging the cheers of the raucous crowd with a brief wave before skipping out of the range of his charging opponent. Grinning, even as blood ran from one of his nostrils, Percy met his opponent, blocking his strikes with the efficiency of an experienced fighter. He struck back when the opportunity rose, discombobulating him. It was clear Percy was only toying with him to prolong the fight for the crowd.

Showboating, Percy spread his arms, deliberately turning his back to the man, much to the delight of the crowd who craved his attention. He did a slow circle of the pit as the man tried to shake his fuzzy vision and it was then that his eyes met Annabeth's. He paused, his grin widening upon seeing her, as if he knew exactly who she was and who sent her. He cut a handsome figure, she grudgingly admitted and while his eyes held a mischievous glint that irked her, the colour was uniquely beautiful.

His opponent recovered and judging from the glare he gave Percy, was seriously pissed. Still basking in the noise of the crowd, Percy appeared oblivious to the trouble behind him, and as the opponent charged at his exposed back, Annabeth had expected Percy's cockiness to be beaten out of him. At the last second Percy sensed the danger, spinning out of his way. The man collided with the spectators, who threw him back towards Percy. Over toying, Percy executed a series of combos and blocks against his less-than-adept opponent. The man fell to the ground with a heavy thud, his groans washed out by the applauding crowd.

Percy didn't look back towards Annabeth. He acknowledged the crowd, making his way towards the bookie, who whispered something in his ear, a pouch of coins changing hands. From the way the bookie smiled as he entered the makeshift circle, he had profited a lot from Percy's performance. The fighter waved off the spare medic, though did grab a small scrap of towel and pressed it to his nose. A small boy rushed forward and handed Percy a bundle, which he was rewarded with coin. On his way out of the tavern, he grabbed a bottle and tossed a few coins on the bar, acknowledging the barkeeper with a wave before heading out into the night.

Annabeth kept her distance as she followed him down the street, but he was either oblivious or he didn't care. Percy walked casually, lifting his head to catch the night's breeze when it drifted down the dirt road. The bundle was slung over his bare shoulder, the bottle remaining untouched at his side. Percy led her to a run-down looking inn down a side street that didn't boast it's presence like the other inns in the town. Placing the bottle on the reception desk, he made his way up the stairs. Annabeth hastened to follow, reaching the top of the stairs as he entered the last door on the left of the corridor.

He had left the door ajar, no doubt for Annabeth to enter. She paused, her cautious nature coming to the forefront. She did not know this man and neither did Luke; not for years. He had anticipated she would follow him and was no doubt waiting for her. Could he had planned a trap as well? Annabeth had to assume Percy knew who had sent her so he would also know that she would have combat skill but being a man against a woman, regardless if the woman had the skillset Annabeth did, he would have the advantage.

Annabeth didn't have to talk to Percy. Luke had wanted him, yes, but it wasn't a guarantee that he would have agreed to Luke's request. She could just continue with her mission and when she succeeded it wouldn't matter. She turned to leave, but glanced back, noticing the warm light emitting from the gap. Annabeth wasn't a coward, so why was she so prepared to duck tail and flee on the off-chance this Percy was a predator? She had dealt with predators before and knew how to gain the upper hand in a fight. With a steady hand, and another resting on the knife at her hip that was hidden underneath her cloak, Annabeth softly pushed the door open, getting a full glance of the room before stepping in.

The room was simple and small, with an uncomfortable looking bed against one wall, a table and washbasin right next to it. A rickety looking chair sat against the opposite wall and a table sat in the centre. The table was obscured by Percy, wearing a dark, rich robe, his head bowed over the desk, his back to her. The grip on her knife tightened as she stepped further into the room, though careful to keep a safe distance from him.

"Tell Luke I said no," he said aloud. When she didn't reply straight away, Percy turned towards her, raising an eyebrow.

He hadn't bothered to put on a shirt or fasten the robe. Not that Annabeth was looking. He was barefoot with his pants sitting low on his hips; again, Annabeth wasn't looking but she did think he was rather cocky to meet a stranger in such a manner. His sword belt rested on the bed as did the bundle he had received back at the tavern. No trap, Annabeth realised, loosening her grip on her knife ever so slightly.

"To what?" she asked, feigning ignorance.

Percy snorted, moving around the table. He pulled out the stopper on a decanter on the table, sitting next to it was two glasses. "All of Luke's lackeys look the same and honey, you stand out more than the lot of them." He glanced up after he poured the two glasses, noting her expression with a snort. "You didn't think you were the only one he has sent to track me down?"

He walked over to her, offering her the second glass. When she refused with a glare in his direction, he shrugged, downing her drink in one. There was faint amusement on his face at her silent stubbornness, causing Annabeth to bristle in indignation.

"Do you have a name?" he asked as he walked back towards the table.

"Annabeth," she said.

"Percy." He introduced himself with a quick turn, dipping slightly in a bow.

Annabeth struggled to get a read on him. He was confident, and almost too laidback to be considered a threat but despite him appearing open and friendly, he guarded his true emotions carefully. As someone who also kept her cards close to her chest, she could see he did the same. He was smart and experienced, if the way he watched her said anything. Clearly still healthy and fit to be fighting with some regard, so why was he fighting in dirty taverns and staying in rundown inns?

"You were Luke's best friend?" she questioned with high scepticism in her voice.

His eyes dulled slightly. "That was a very long time ago," he stated towards his decanter but loud enough that Annabeth heard him. He turned back to face her, leaning against the table. "And something we both don't enjoy speaking about. So, why don't we just get to the part of the evening where you beg me to take you in this room and I, with heavy regret, decline your advances and you can go back to Luke and tell him I am never joining his little group ever again."

"How do people stand to be around you?" Annabeth asked, her arms folded over her chest. "You are repugnant."

"Repugnant," Percy repeated, contemplating the description against him. "Haven't been called that before. It's a bit of mood killer," he told her matter-of-factly before taking a deep drink.

"Luke didn't ask me to recruit you," she added. He scoffed in disbelief as he brought his glass to his lips. "He tasked me with retrieving the Crystal."

Percy froze. Slowly, he placed the glass on the table, his head tilting to watch the movement. Once he composed himself, those eyes, once alive with mischief, darkened with the recollection of memories Annabeth had brought up with that one word. He stood, moving forwards until he was a foot away from her. Stubbornly, she held her ground. His eyes drifted down her body, taking in everything. He scoffed again, shaking his head as he let out an explosive breath, walking back toward his glass.

"Well played Luke," he muttered to himself. "Well played." He toasted to the window. "He knew sending me someone like you would conflict my decision."

"Someone like me?" repeated Annabeth coldly.

He faced her again. "I have no doubt you are smart, resourceful, and adept at basic fighting skills, but your naivety is obvious."

"What are you going on about?" she demanded.

"What do you know about the Crystal?"

"It's a valuable object, rumoured to hold magical properties," replied Annabeth, cringing at those rumours. She believed in logic, not magic. "The one to wield it will become the most powerful person in the land."

Percy shook his head sadly. "Yes, a fool's dream," he said softly. "One I used to believe in and share. This mission he has given you is a death sentence," he told her seriously, his eyes boring into hers.

"No," she disagreed, shaking her head. "He trusts me, completely. He knows I will not fail him."

Percy wiped a hand over his face. "I thought the same thing once. Brothers for life, he said. This isn't … please reconsider." He was almost begging.

"So, you won't come and help me retrieve it?"

"I won't go back to that place," he said, bowing his head. He shuddered a little.

"Then I will go alone," she stated.

Percy's head snapped up. "Then you will certainly die. Flee. Find another man to love. Live your life. Don't do this. It's not …"

Annabeth was a little taken aback by his reaction. And by the way he astutely guessed her feelings for Luke. It made her a little unsteady that he could get that from her after only meeting minutes ago.

"It's not what? Safe for a woman?" Percy struggled to answer so she ploughed on, her anger driving her words. "Just because you failed, doesn't mean I will. I told Luke it was a waste of time tracking you down. Go back to beating up drunken fools for money like the honourless coward you are."

With the stinging words hanging in the air between them, Annabeth stormed from his room. It would be a few days until she was able to get his expression from her mind and even then, it haunted her dreams.

* * *

_**Writer's block is a funny thing. In becoming stuck on another story, this one popped into my head. I decided to run with this story while I could, and hopefully you, the reader, will enjoy the newest adventure with Percy and Annabeth. Author's note: the characters in this tale are in their twenties.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**As always, these characters do not belong to me.**

**Chapter Two**

* * *

Annabeth spent the next week of her travels thinking about the two different men embroiled in her life. Luke was always on her mind and had been since she had met him five years ago. He had found her cowering in fear in the back alley of a street, a rusty steak knife her only source of protection. She remembered the way he had smiled at her, the soothing way he spoke and his promises. Never to feel afraid, never to be alone, to always have a home with him. He had kept those promises since the moment she had dropped the knife and taken his offering hand. He had stayed by her side until they reached home, even when she shook with silent tears or refused to speak.

Luke had been so gentle with her those first few months. She had grown accustomed to a daily routine, chafing a little at her 'light' duties. Sensing the grow in confidence, Luke accommodated, never in excess but enough for her to feel as though she was doing something substantial to thank him and his people for their generosity. After the first few months she wanted to do more and again, Luke obliged. Combat training began, and she never looked back. Five years later, she had made herself an Elite fighter, capable of despatching any opponent who stood in her path.

Five years of waiting, of ... dare she say it, pining, over the tall, blonde haired, blue eyed leader of the Elite. While she hadn't openly expressed her feelings to him, she had thought she had hinted it well enough, but Luke was driven, always striving forward to hit the next goal and often told those who asked that he wasn't interested in any romantic entanglements. Sure, he had lovers, but they were only to satisfy a base need. Luke respected her and her skillset not to ask her to be his lover. She was silently glad he never did because she wasn't sure whether she would've been able to decline it.

"I need you."

Luke had started their last conversation in that manner. Annabeth's heart had thundered in her chest, thinking that maybe she had finally convinced him of her affection, and he reciprocated it.

"I'm yours," she said, almost faint with anticipation but it quickly deflated with his next words.

"Since you've arrived, you have changed the dynamic of this group and I couldn't be prouder to have you at my side," he said with a smile. "I believe it's time we announce our power to the rest of the world, and you will be the emcee."

Annabeth had taken a second to compose her aching heart before turning business-like. "What is it you want me to do?"

Luke's smile widened. "There is an item of great power hidden in the northern region. It is said the one to wield it will be the one to rule the world."

"What is the item?"

"No one knows. It has been dubbed the Crystal and so far, none have been be able to discover it, but I have every faith that you will overcome any barrier to retrieve it?"

"Barrier?"

"You will face many obstacles and tests to prove your worthy of the Crystal," Luke explained, pulling out and unfurling a map of the world. "It's supposed to be around this area. Most of the area is flat but here," he pointed to a unplotted area. "There's a flat sheet of mountain wall. Supposedly, there's a crack in the mountain face and that's the only access point to the Crystal."

"Okay," Annabeth said with a nod. She thought about it for a moment, the map helping guide her journey. "Give me a couple of months."

"Confidence, I like it," said Luke, patting her gently on the shoulder. "And I need you to find an old friend of mine, Percy. He'll be able to help you."

"Percy?" Annabeth queried. "All due respect, Luke, I work better alone."

"Even so, Percy has experience regarding the Crystal, possibly the most out of anyone. His knowledge will be invaluable."

"Luke, I don't –."

"It's not up for discussion," Luke snapped. Taken aback, Annabeth fell silent. He had never spoken to her that way. "I need this Crystal and the only way I'm going to get it is if you and Percy work together." There was a moment's silence before Luke realised how he reacted. "Forgive me," he said quietly. "I just, I need this to work. A lot of the Elite have been … questioning things. It's been challenging trying to provide answers when they refuse to see what progress we have made."

"Who's this Percy?" Annabeth asked after a minute or two.

Luke smiled in thanks before giving Annabeth a brief rundown of Percy's description and movements that they had recorded, adding another month to her prediction to find him. It was only thinking back on their last conversation that Annabeth realised that Luke had never told her how exactly he knew Percy. After leaving the man in question in that dingy town, Annabeth deduced that the two didn't part on good terms and she wondered whether that was because of Percy's failure to grab the Crystal.

While Annabeth found Percy's demeanour irksome, she couldn't help but speculate whether his nature was due to his failures or whether it was just him in general. The haunted look in his eyes when she had brought up the Crystal and his warnings had given Annabeth pause over the following days but eventually, she had put it down to whatever repressed emotions he had for Luke. She was curious to know what had happened between them but was also quite happy never to see him again.

There was a main travelling road that wagons, highwaymen, bandits and families used to move from the South to the North. Annabeth, having had one too many bad experiences with that road, opted instead to use the back roads as much as she could, camping in sections of forest if she hadn't reached the next town. It was one of the downsides of travelling north; the sparseness between main towns. A week after leaving Percy, Annabeth was forced to take shelter in one of the smaller forests, the sliver of moon beginning its ascent into the night sky; and that's when she was attacked.

She was foolish. She had let her guard down. She had just finished her meagre meal and was settling down for the night when they pounced on her from behind. Her body froze with her initial surprise, giving them the chance to pin her arms. A shriek left her lips, which later she inwardly cringed at. They tried to restrain her legs as well, but her combat instincts had kicked in and she lashed out, collecting the man (judging by his grunt of pain), in the stomach. He relinquished his grip, her feet hitting the ground and then propelling up straight away, smashing into his chin, snapping his head back. Another rushed forward to help and Annabeth kicked out again, twisting her hips to gain more power.

The twist not only gave her kick enough strength to down the man with a well-placed knock to the head, but it also helped to loosen the grips on her arms. Annabeth jumped up, then upon landing, lurched forward, hoping to throw them off completely. They struggled but managed to hold on, even as she frantically twisted. She threw her head back, clipping one of them on the chin but it wasn't enough to loosen his grip. They were cursing, thinking her to be easy prey, their grip tightening as more swarmed to subdue her. Annabeth refused to give up, until one of the larger attackers knocked her soundly on the temple.

"Fool!" someone barked as Annabeth slumped into unconsciousness. "We need her sane!"

Someone slapped Annabeth awake. Dazed, it took her a minute or two to get her bearings. They hadn't bothered to move from her campsite, but there were bindings at her wrists at her back and at her ankles. Her belongings remained untouched, so they weren't after her possessions and the small fire she had made was engorged, causing her to shirk away from the heat. She was surrounded by a dozen or so figures, and that was only who she could see, making her balk slightly. There were women amongst them, which gave some relief about their intentions, but Annabeth was puzzled as to why she was chosen by these people to be their captive.

The strangest thing as the throbbing of her temple started to fade, was that the people surrounding her weren't paying any attention to her. Some were glancing in the same direction behind Annabeth and the rest had their heads bowed, muttering something indistinguishable to her. She squirmed, testing the limits of her binds and the patience of captors. She could've screamed and still they would've kept their silent vigil. Not giving up when she was unsuccessful, Annabeth needed more information about who these people were and work out her next move after.

"My children!"

It was the same voice she had heard before she fell unconscious. A man stepped forward and the crowd of people fell away from his path. For a second, Annabeth thought it was Luke. He had fair blonde hair and crystal blue eyes almost uncanny to Luke's, but the facial scar was missing and his hair, while short-cropped, had a messy quality to it that Luke would hate. This man wasn't as tall as Luke and although he appeared healthy, he lacked some of the fighting muscle that Luke had achieved over the years. Strange as it was that he called the others his 'children', he was also wearing what appeared to be a white toga over his clothes.

"The day is close at hand," he said excitedly. He stood just behind Annabeth and she didn't appreciate the symbolism it portrayed. "I have been consulted by a higher power and we will be the favoured!"

Annabeth struggled not to roll her eyes, but she did clench her teeth in frustration. She had been captured by religious fanatics! There were many different religious factions in varying degrees of fanaticism. Most were harmless, keeping to themselves or the larger cities to convert new members to their faith but Annabeth had heard of a few that considered their religion to be law, ignoring all other laws put in place. Reports of these cults often resorting to violence came thick and fast, enough so that most town guards had sketches of religious brands to identify who entered their gates.

It was too dark for Annabeth to discern any symbols on their cloaks, even those who stood closest to the fire. Her plans of talking her way out of the situation was fading quickly. She twisted her wrists, unable to move them, even to try and grab the stray end of the bindings. Shifting her ankles with the same result, her escape options were next to nothing, at least, not where she was. If they were to take her somewhere, she could get away then. For the time being, and much to her disgust, she would have to listen to their preaching to discover more about them.

"We have waited for this moment and our patience will be rewarded. We will rise above all others and I; I will show the other non-believers who their new leader will be!"

A roar of approval went up from his supporters. The man in charge had raised his arms, exulted by their reaction. Annabeth clenched her jaw, sickened, angered and embarrassed all over again at being caught by these people. The leader kicked Annabeth in the back, not hard, but enough for her to hiss in anger, glaring up at him.

"This is a non-believer," he continued, gesturing to her. "But her soul will be saved. We will take this naïve child with us and at the place where we will shine above all others, her blood will open the foundations and we will take what belongs to only those who believe!"

From inside the toga, the man pulled out a knife, twisting so the blade glinted in the flames. Annabeth tried to move away but he grabbed her by the scruff of her shirt. He made no move to place the knife closer to her but that hardly eased Annabeth's tension. A ripple of noise went through the crowd, a slow chanting murmur, building in volume and momentum, becoming frenzied. Annabeth struggled as her panic seeped in. A crescendo of howls and screams filled the air, causing her to flinch and hunker down to try and cover her ears from the noise. Her captor, his grip still firm on her shirt, basked in their devotion, smiling down at Annabeth, who glared in response.

"You will see our way and come to reason," he told her, as the noise died down. "You will welcome the chance to serve our cause when we get there." He ran the tip of the knife under one of her loose curls beside her temple. "What a beautiful sacrifice you will make," he murmured, mesmerised by the lock of hair.

"Octavian, my favourite fanatical asshole."

Annabeth's captor's head snapped up towards the voice, almost cutting her cheek as he pulled the knife away. Percy strolled into view, leaning against the trunk of a tree at the edge of the clearing. His voice was light, but his expression was anything but. Despite her earlier opinion, she was really relieved to see him.

"And here was me hoping you had died some tragic, but warranted, death," Percy continued. The leader, Octavian, snarled at Percy, his eyes darting to the shadows beside the unwanted visitor. Percy noticed, putting on that cocky grin Annabeth annoyed. "Yeah, they won't be attending the rest of festivities tonight. We had some disagreements on my invitation."

"You!" Octavian shrieked, finally finding his voice. He sounded like a madman, Percy's appearance certainly the cause of it. He pointed the knife towards Percy. "You must be sacrificed so the prophecy can come to fruition!"

Percy's grin dropped. "Here's a novel idea. Sacrifice yourself," he growled, his voice hard with barely contained rage.

"My children!" Octavian called out to his followers, gaining some of his composure. "That man is our key to a better future. Bring him to me."

The followers turned their attention towards Percy, who eyed them warily, unclipping his travelling cloak. He moved his hand hesitantly down to the hilt of his sword. "Please don't make me do this," he warned them when they continued to stalk in his direction. He drew his sword as they neared, stepping into the clearing to give himself space to move. One follower, holding a bludgeoned club, howled madly with impatience and charged at Percy, with the rest swiftly following.

Annabeth struggled against her binds, forgotten, watching helplessly as a dozen madmen charged Percy. His movements were smooth and clinical, dodging, weaving and parrying his opponents when they came in range. What struck her though was that he used the flat part of his blade to takedown the fanatics. This confused Annabeth but it didn't matter what technique he used because he was easily overcoming their attacks. He fought so differently than when he did in the pit. Clinical, almost effortless, gliding on his feet like a dance. It was so beautiful to watch that she was slightly envious.

Seeing that his men were being overrun, Octavian snarled in anger. He shoved Annabeth aside, grabbing from the follower next to him an elegantly crafted spear. He strode forward, pushing his followers aside as if they were no more than objects. He lifted the spear, charging towards Percy's exposed back, waiting for him to engaged with another fighter. Annabeth screamed out a warning but knew as his name left her lips that he wouldn't have time to react. His head half-spun towards her as Octavian lunged the spear forward …

And was knocked aside by another spear when a hooded figure entered the fray. The figure landed in a crouch between Percy and Octavian, who was surprised as any about the arrival of a second uninvited guest. Dressed in black with a cloak spread out around them, the figure looked up directly into the eyes of the religious leader, their face also covered with a black cloth so only their eyes were visible.

"She-Wolf!" Octavian spat out.

The followers closest to Octavian charged forward to protect their leader, but the spear of the hooded figure cut through them with little to no effort. As more of the fanatics rushed to aid Octavian, Percy and what had to be a fighter dispatched them, the fighter not having the same reservations Percy had regarding sparing lives. Octavian kept backtracking, tripping over a stray branch at one point in his haste to avoid the oncoming fighter, screaming orders to contain the 'She-Wolf'. A half dozen fanatics came from the shadows, more than Annabeth imagined were possible, overwhelming the second fighter on their quest to reach the retreating Octavian, who grabbed his protective guard and shoved them away, disappearing into the darkness. He glanced back just before he vanished, and Annabeth could see a hint of fear amongst the madness as he glanced towards the cloaked fighter.

The fighter finished the nearest fanatic, lifting their head towards Octavian and where he disappeared. Their head snapped towards Percy, who shoved away another fanatic before facing another.

"Go!" Percy waved away the fighter, who took off with a swish of their cloak after Octavian.

Percy made quick work of the remaining attackers, who had yet to realise their leader had left them. It was another reason Annabeth hated fanatics. While their followers had loyalty, their leaders hardly rewarded that loyalty with their own. As the last of the followers fell, Percy, chest heaving and breathing deeply with effort, glanced around the campsite, scanning every dark area and body to be sure no threat remained, before sheathing his sword.

"Did he hurt you?" Percy asked, rushing towards her. His eyes roamed down her body, checking for injuries. "Did he … do anything to you?"

Annabeth shook her head as her hands sprung free. She massaged her wrists. "No." Percy appeared relieved that she was unharmed. Odd. "He just spoke incessantly about some religious omen and prophets or some nonsense."

"He does that," Percy muttered darkly. She could feel the tension emitting from his body and it was staring at him as he continued to scan the surrounding forest for any oncoming threats that Annabeth could see the trained Elite fighter he used to be.

"You were tracking me," Annabeth accused half-heartedly, getting to her feet.

"Yeah," replied Percy, rising also. "I would've gotten to you sooner, but Luke's refined his technique."

"No, he hasn't," she told him. Annabeth met his gaze when she felt it on her. "Mine's just better." Percy chuckled, nodding in agreement. "So, does this mean you changed your mind?" she asked.

"Ah," said Percy, hesitant to answer. He grabbed the back of his head, ruffling his hair. "Not exactly. I'm hoping you will –."

"Dammit Percy!" The hooded figure swore, striding over and pulling off their hood and the cloth covering their face as they did. "Do you know how long I've been waiting for this chance? And now he's vanished again!"

The She-Wolf was a woman. Tall and imposing, her piercing dark eyes were glaring at Percy, demanding an explanation. Her raven coloured hair was coming loose from its braid and her leather armour, boots and gloves looked expensive and immaculate, making Annabeth feel a little inadequate in her dirtied shirt, worn, but comfortable, boots and dishevelled hair. It was also clear that the two of them knew each other.

"It's been a long time, Reyna," said Percy, with a warm smile. "I thought we agreed to stop pursuing him."

Her anger had softened with his smile, though it did still appear to be simmering. "You knew I wouldn't," she countered.

He nodded. "Maybe I fooled myself into hoping you would," he said softly. Reyna shook her head in half-disgust, half-resignation. "It's good to see you," he added.

Reyna smiled grudgingly. "And you Percy, and you." It was only when Reyna stared at Annabeth pointedly, did Percy appear to remember she was there. Idiot.

"Oh, Reyna, Annabeth. Annabeth, Reyna," Percy introduced.

The two women nodded to each other. Annabeth didn't know much about Reyna, but she was silently taking note of the folded spear at her back, the knife at her hip and the small one sticking out from her right boot. This woman had style, which Annabeth appreciated.

"How long had you been tracking him?" asked Percy after clearing his throat.

"I never really stopped," answered Reyna, taking a seat beside the fire, away from the fallen fanatics. Percy joined her, urging Annabeth to do the same. "It wasn't until a few weeks ago that I finally got a substantial lead on him. Rumours have been swirling that someone is attempting to retrieve the Crystal."

Percy, to his credit, didn't glance towards Annabeth or react to the news. "Being the prophet meant he had to wield it, not anyone else."

Reyna nodded. "Worked himself up into a frenzy and forgot to be careful. I knew that at some point he would choose his 'sacrifice' and I knew once he did that would be my chance to nab him. I didn't count on you playing the hero though."

"What can I say?" Percy eased back on his elbows, his laidback attitude returning as the danger passed. "Never could pass up the opportunity to be a lady's hero." He winked at Annabeth, who scowled in return, causing Reyna to snort.

"Smooth as always," Reyna commented. "I should go. There's at least three of his hidey holes he could have gone to. Maybe I'll get lucky and pick the right one." She rose to her feet, Percy doing the same. It might have been the firelight, but Annabeth thought there was a wistful smile on her face. Reyna nodded her farewell to Annabeth and Percy followed her to the edge of the light. Annabeth pretended to busy herself with checking her bag.

"Do I want to know?" asked Reyna quietly.

"I'm handling it," replied Percy, just as quietly. "You know the offer's still there. There's always a spot for you at … you don't have to keep doing this."

"I know, Perce." She touched his cheek gently. "But I just … I can never …" Reyna sighed, gazing out into the darkness, eyes shining in the light. "It's better if I don't. But thank you. I have a feeling we'll see each other again soon."

Reyna threw up her hood and vanished into the darkness, her footfalls slowly diminishing into silence. Percy watched after her for a bit before re-joining Annabeth at the fire. He stared long and hard into the flames, his face unreadable.

"Do you have anything to eat?" he eventually asked Annabeth.

"Where's your stuff?" she asked by way of reply. She pulled up her bed roll, flapping it out to remove dirt.

Percy shrugged. "Somewhere back there. I'll get it in the morning, but I don't have any food."

"Neither do I," Annabeth lied, settling down. She rolled over so her back was to him.

"Shame. Could do with some food right about now."

Annabeth heard him sigh, rising to his feet, his muscles popping as he stretched. He shuffled around for a bit, then she heard him a rustle behind her, followed by a warmth at her back. She spun around, almost shrieking in surprise when she spotted him lying directly behind her.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, sitting up.

"You didn't want to cuddle?" he asked, confused. "You've been through a traumatic experience and your mind has to process what happened. Cuddling helps."

Annabeth made a noise of disgust. "If I ever needed consoling, I would ask you last," she stated in a hard, but firm voice. She got to her feet, pulling her bed roll from underneath Percy. "And if you decide you want to come any closer to me, I'll punch that smug look off your face."

Percy put his hands up innocently, settling onto an elbow to face her. "You did ask for my help."

"I didn't want it," she muttered.

"If you say so," he asked coyly. "I'll be just over here if you change your mind."

Annabeth's kept her back purposely to Percy until she fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**As always, these characters do not belong to me.**

**Chapter Three**

* * *

"Are you quite sure you don't want to jump up?" Percy asked again.

"No, thank you," said Annabeth through gritted teeth.

Annabeth rose early and left before Percy woke, only to find him on her tail a league later, whistling happily on top of a beautiful black roan. She wasn't surprised, nor did she really think she would be rid of him, but she thought of it as a test, to see if he was committed to going with her. He never brought up the deception as he fell into step with her and didn't feel inclined to. Only to comment on her lack of equine resources.

"Next town we stop at, you're buying horse," he stated. "Why didn't you buy one beforehand? Do you know how long a journey to the north it is on foot?"

"Horses can be tracked," she said primly.

"So can people," Percy countered.

"And that's why you're so insistent on us travelling on the main road," Annabeth said derisively, making it clear she hated the idea.

"Sticking to the back roads and forests hasn't exactly worked well for you," he noted lightly.

Annabeth withheld her comment and stared angrily ahead of her. One of his other little insistences that irked her. She had wanted to head due north immediately, given the cult was on the same directory, but Percy rather forcefully made them head more eastward and stay in the closest town. His reasoning was sound, making Annabeth even more irritable and against the idea. She couldn't explain it, but everything about Percy set her teeth on edge.

"Do you have any preference for lunch?" he asked. She knew it was childish, but Annabeth ignored him, walking a bit quicker and refusing to glance in his direction. "Did you hear me?" He moved his horse forward to cut off her path, but she walked around him. "You aren't talking to me or something?" he called out, before swearing softly, urging his horse forward with a click of his tongue.

"Come on, everybody makes mistakes. You're only a fool if you don't learn from them," said Percy, leaning down to try and catch her eye. "Do you want me to apologise? Fine, I'm terribly sorry I offended you." He waited for a response, which she didn't give, causing him to scoff a laugh. "You can't give me the silent treatment the entire journey north, that's too far. I'll go stir-crazy. If you don't change your mind, I'll have to entertain myself." Annabeth remained stoic. "Okay … how about some singing? I've been told I can't carry a tune, but I think I sound pretty good myself. You sure you have nothing to say to that?"

True to his word when Annabeth continued her silent treatment, he cleared his throat, singing very off-key to the point of almost being purposeful.

"I once knew a man, who lived by the sea," he began, pausing to see if she would speak before continuing in a deep tone. "Never he spoke, til the clock struck three. Then he would weep, 'bout a woman he knows, with fair curls in her hair, and skin just like snow."

He sung the last word with a heavy, sombre note, causing his horse to shake his head, disgruntled. Percy exaggerated taking in a deep breath, ready to start another verse.

"Alright, stop," commanded Annabeth. She had to stifle her smile but was struggling. "Your singing is so terrible that even your horse hates it. What sort of a song is that?"

"Didn't you like the shanty? To be honest, I didn't think much of it either, but it was the first one to pop into my head," Percy admitted with a lopsided grin. "Give me another couple of leagues and I could probably remember one of the better ones."

"Been on many ships then?"

"Nah. Just spent a lot of time in the coastal taverns. Sailors are the most entertaining drunks."

Annabeth rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile. Percy had no such restrictions, grinning widely towards her, before glancing around, humming quietly what sounded like another shanty he remembered. She was glad he hummed it and didn't attempt to sing again. Eventually, Percy reached behind him to the packs his horse carried, rummaging until he pulled out an apple. The horse didn't seem perturbed by his owner's restlessness on his back, even when at one stage Percy was practically lying backwards to search for the apple. Taking a couple of bites before leaning forward to give it to the horse, Annabeth had to admire the control he had over his steed.

"I'm surprised," Percy began as the road entered a small clearing. He had been glancing at her on and off for the last five minutes. Annabeth could feel his stare but strangely didn't scold him for it. She narrowed her eyes when she met his curious gaze. "I thought you would've been more, inquisitive, about my accompanying you."

"You thought about it, and decided to assist me after all," said Annabeth with a shrug. "What's there to ask?"

"You're not at all curious, about me?" he asked, leaning towards her.

Annabeth took a step away. "Not really no." Yes, she was.

"I'm curious about you," he admitted. "Gotta know who you're travelling with and if you can trust them."

Annabeth gave a snort of laughter. "Yes, you do appear untrustworthy, especially since …"

They paused, glancing ahead to where the remnants of a skirmish had taken place. After a silent look at each other, they continued forward cautiously. Annabeth rested her hand casually on the hilt of her knife at her hip, her eyes scanning the turned over cart, the straps where horses had been fallen in the dirt. Percy clicked his tongue, causing his horse to stop once they were near the closest fallen body. He slid from his horse in one fluid motion, quite elegantly if she had to admit. He kept a vigil as Annabeth crouched down to inspect the body, a woman, before drifting to inspect the remnants of the cart.

It was a sad sight as Annabeth gently turned the woman onto the back. Her and the man lying some feet away had the same slashes and wounds, the woman gazing unseeingly up at the sky, the man's face in the dirt. With a sickening lurch, she noticed a pair of blood-stained child's sized shoes discarded near the cart and beside them, a still hand, the owner trapped under the cart where Percy was. A family, an innocent family, probably on their way to sell their goods in town, slain so heartlessly.

Annabeth pinched the bridge of her nose, opening her eyes with a sad sigh as she gazed down at the woman. A twinkle came from her neck, causing Annabeth to peel back her jacket to inspect the source. She pulled the necklace closer, the band coming free from her neck after already being broken. She ran her finger over the symbol at its heart.

"This is a religious mark," Annabeth called to Percy, lifting the necklace the victim wore when he faced her. She rose to her feet, inspecting the scene with a new set of eyes. "But this is a peaceful colony. They don't believe in violence. Hardly the ones to instigate or present as potential threats."

"Crime of opportunity then," Percy deduced. "Desperate people do desperate things."

"But they would've just given them what they wanted," Annabeth rebutted, coming to the cart. If it was full, then the contents had been taken. The odd vegetable lay strewn across the road, as well as strips of material. "Why kill them?"

Percy didn't answer straight away, instead walking off into the grass that surrounded the road. He crouched and then called her over. Moving into range, she noticed what he was pointing out with another body. Cut and bloodied, the wounds on his stomach were small and shallow, tentative, as if the killer didn't know what they were doing. His shirt had come lose at his shoulder, revealing his brand. Annabeth swore quietly, lifting her gaze to potential hiding spots.

"Barrowmen and their traps. They think they're deceptively clever," observed Percy. He casually rose to his feet, though he didn't move to draw his sword. Annabeth frowned at his casual stance, heading back onto the road which would be easier to move on. Percy followed, heading towards the cart as a shrill whistle rang across the field.

The brand represented a group of bandits who called themselves the Barrowmen. They prided themselves on making up rules to suit their own needs, but most were wary of them for their bursts of unpredictable rage. They cared little for their clothes and personal hygiene, only for their next fix of violence or burglary, often robbing one group and leaving the remnants for the following passers-by to stop, thereby becoming their next victims. Annabeth was glad her and Percy were their next targets. She needed to release her frustrations, and to make up for being captured the night before. She wasn't a liability and she needed to prove that she wasn't, if just for her own peace of mind.

The Barrowmen attacked them from both sides of the road. Annabeth faced them head on, engaging with the first to arrive, sweeping, ducking. She parried another, knocking aside a third and slicing the fourth who decided to charge at her directly. The bandits had some combative training but not as extensive as Annabeth. She dispatched her fourth bandit and glanced over towards Percy and nearly copped a knock from her surprise. Her next few opponents took longer to put down, due to the fact she had to keep an eye on Percy. Lucky that she did, for his sake anyway.

For reasons Annabeth could not comprehend, Percy was only attempting to subdue the bandits. He had grabbed a wooden staff from the cart, using that instead of his sword. He used it expertly, spinning and twirling it around him and was felling the opponents he came across but there was too many to be efficient. Those that he had subdued first, started to recover from their knocks. One such bandit waited until Percy was engaged with another before rising to his feet, swaying slightly but gaining his balance the more he remained upright, and his confidence. He grabbed a short sword on the ground, raising it to bring down on Percy's back.

Annabeth spun from an attack, punching him squarely in the nose, shattering it. This gave her enough time to pull a small knife from her belt she kept for emergencies, flinging it into Percy's assailant's direction before re-engaging with her own attacker. Judging by the grunt she heard, her knife had found its mark. She finished her attacker, took two steps before making a diving leap, landing beside her knife's mark, pulling it free before tossing it at another attacker about to overwhelm Percy. He turned just as they fell, staring first at Annabeth, then at the bandits, fallen amongst the other bodies. His expression was unreadable, but she thought she detected some underlying form of pity.

"Is this some kind of a joke to you?" Annabeth yelled at him. Her frustrations had finally boiled over. She ripped her knife from the body. "They're trying to kill us and you're just going to give them a little smack?"

"Oh, come on, Annie," replied Percy, not affected by her anger. "You can't possibly tell me that these bandits were a challenge."

"Don't call me 'Annie'," she seethed. "We have a job to do!"

"I understand that," he said, his voice losing a bit of its lightness. He frowned at her. "Are you seriously angry at me?"

"This isn't some stroll in the park!" she shouted at him. "What is it you think I'm doing here? I promised Luke I would get this done and ever since I've met you, it's gone from bad to worse."

"Hang on a sec!" Percy grabbed Annabeth's arm when she went to leave and she shrugged it off, almost snarling at him. "Please tell me what's brought this on? Because I used a staff instead of a sword? They're bandits, Annabeth. Not lethal soldiers or fighters. What happened here was awful, yes, but going around killing people for all the horrible things they do isn't always the answer. These men, after the beating they received at the hands of an unarmed man, will think twice before attacking another. I can guarantee that."

"Just answer this. Are you here to help me, or here to sabotage me because of your grudge against Luke?"

"Grudge?" Percy looked confused. "What are you talking about?"

"It doesn't matter," she muttered. "I need some space." She started striding off, and this time, Percy let her. She grabbed her bag and the reins of his horse, leaping up into the saddle. She clicked him forward, pausing at Percy's side. "If you're serious about helping me, I'll meet you in the next town."

She left a confused Percy standing amongst the fallen, urging the horse into a canter. Once the adrenaline had died down, she slowed the horse to a walk. Taking some deep breaths, she led the horse to a small stream, pausing only to grab a drink before continuing towards the town. Her map suggested she would reach the town by late afternoon, giving her plenty of time to think.

She had overreacted. She had overreacted and she wasn't sure why. Maybe it was seeing the slaughter of an innocent family, one with ties to a pacifist group. Maybe it was some after effect of the concussion. She had wanted to prove her fighting prowess but that didn't stop the feeling of shame she felt from being captured. Her shame, the family, the bandits, they were only part of it.

It was Percy. Ever since meeting him in that underground fight ring, he had unnerved her. It wasn't anything in particular about him. His demeanour was calm, no creepy or murderous vibes. No leering, or advances towards her; not that she welcomed that sort of thing. He had stressed to her the dangers of Luke's request, but then decided to come regardless. The main reason, Annabeth knew, was that she had no idea who Percy was, and, secretly deep down, she wanted to.

With answers far and Annabeth not really wanting to search to find, the remaining journey passed without further incident. When the town came into view, nestled adjacent to the steadily flowing river, she was ready to have a drink and sleep; even in the hard bed that all small taverns seemed to house, almost as though it was a requirement. A farmer on the outskirts happily escorted her to such an establishment, the other farmers and residents of the town already winding down after a long day.

The bar called to Annabeth and after dropping off the farmer with some of his friends, she headed there. The ale may have tasted stale but that didn't stop Annabeth from downing half of it in one go, only to choke when she heard Percy's unmistakable boisterous jibe to her left. She swivelled, spotting him at the card table, laughing with another player who tossed some coins in the centre of the table. Spotting Annabeth, Percy excused himself, shaking hands with the players and meeting her at one of spare tables, signalling to a maid in the process.

"How?" she asked.

"Highway patrol," answered Percy. He was smiling at her surprise. "After a brief explanation of what I was doing there, they graciously gave me an escort. And arrested the breathing Barrowmen for questioning."

"I didn't see … never mind."

"Good news is I've won an extra horse so you can return mine and we can save some time. I ordered food for you as well," added Percy, giving the maid a thankful smile when she dropped two plates in front of them. She blushed and headed away, glancing over shoulder to him. He didn't appear to notice her interest, but Annabeth did, and it made her want to punch someone. Strange. "Figured you wouldn't be too far behind me. What kept you?"

"Enjoying the scenery," she muttered.

They ate their meal quietly, Percy taking a lot of interest in the comings and goings of the tavern. Annabeth had questions, plenty, just didn't know what to start with. Probably with an apology for the day. Pride prevented this and with Percy appearing quite content to let the situation lie, she was happy to temporarily forget the day and find that hard bed she had been longing for.

"Look, I uh …" Percy began after their meal was finished. He cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair. "I can understand why you got upset."

Annabeth changed the subject. "Why did you follow me? When we met, you were against this."

"Why do you think I have a grudge against Luke?"

"I asked first," said Annabeth childishly.

Percy smiled wryly. "It's a long way. I'm hoping I can change your mind."

"Good luck," snorted Annabeth. "Luke didn't say much about you," she admitted.

"Which led you to believe I had a grudge?" Percy raised an eyebrow. Annabeth shrugged, hoping she wasn't blushing. "Luke and I were close once, but once he took over the Elites, he made decisions that I didn't agree with. I realised then that it was time for me to explore, to find who I wanted to be. So, we parted ways and for the most part, we left each other alone."

"Was that before or after you failed to get the Crystal?"

Percy smiled, finishing his drink. He got to his feet. "After," he answered before wandering back towards the card table.

She watched him as he accepted another drink from the blushing barmaid, a friendly smile on his face as thanks. The barmaid stared after him for a few seconds before jumping when someone called out to her. Annabeth shook her head. He hid has pain well, Annabeth thought, watching him slap the back of the card dealer before taking his seat. But he hadn't faced his demons, that was obvious by his careful wording. How could she judge him, though? Wasn't she doing the exact same thing?

Not long afterwards, Annabeth went to bed early, unable to stand hearing Percy's boisterous behaviour at the card table. She went through Luke's notes, adding them to the maps she had carefully drawn in a notebook she had procured a long time ago, near bursting with extra pages. She combed through those pages, reminiscing on past adventures, recorded by her artistic mind until her eyes grew heavy and the hard bed was inviting her. And yet, even sleepy as she was, her mind just wouldn't shut off.

Frustrated, she left the bed, heading over to the small window, opening it to catch the soft tickle of a breeze. Her view was nothing spectacular, privy only to the inn's stable. Drunkards stumbled out into the street, a local curfew pushing them out into the night. Some had found refuge in the empty stables, others just in the street. A light bobbed into the stable, snagging her attention. It was Percy. Taking a drink from the cup in one hand, he placed the lantern down, moving towards his horse.

"Hey there boy," he said gently, coming to the horse's side. He stroked the neck, moving towards his face. He placed his forehead against the horse's, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. He looked at peace but what snagged her interest, was how extremely gentle and caring towards the animal he was. Annabeth watched as he stayed amongst them, displaying the same compassion to the other horses in the stable when they grew restless. Not completely understanding why, she continued to gaze down at the green-eyed ex-Elite fighter long into the night.


	4. Chapter 4

**As always, these characters do not belong to me.**

**Chapter Four**

* * *

"Miss Annabeth?"

Annabeth scowled at the small porter who was waiting for at the bottom of the tavern stairs the following morning. He flinched at her expression, shuffling nervously.

"Percy asked me to tell you that he had gone for a swim in the river and that he ordered breakfast for you and that I would have to be waiting for you when you woke," he said with a high-pitched squeak.

"You didn't need to add that last part in," she advised.

The young porter scuttled away after delivering his message, leaving a heavy sighing Annabeth to find the maid that had her meal. While the meal of porridge and honey was mediocre, she was glad they at least served coffee. Settling into her chair with her cup, she plotted their course for the next couple of days. She was debating whether they should stock up supplies and skip the next few towns when Percy wandered in.

Annabeth was unimpressed by his entrance but was the only woman to be so. Hair dripping, upper body glistening because his shirt was thrown over one shoulder, pants sitting low on his hips, Percy strode in casually, looking refreshed after his 'swim'. The women in the tavern stopped what they were doing to watch him. He nodded with a grin at Annabeth when he noticed her, hopping up the stairs two at a time.

"Does he own a shirt?" Annabeth muttered darkly into her cup.

"I hope not," the barmaid sighed, resting her elbow on the bar as she stared after his retreating figure.

Annabeth rolled her eyes.

* * *

After the events of their first couple of days, Annabeth was relieved that their day's travel was uneventful. They made good time, thanks to Percy procuring her a horse. Appalled that the mare hadn't been given a name, he spent most of the morning thinking of a name, aghast that Annabeth didn't feel the need to. With the mare's grey coat and white socks, Percy decided on the name 'Silver Mist', his own black roan aptly named 'Blackjack'. When questioned over the importance, Percy answered, "everything deserves a name".

They stopped roughly where Annabeth had plotted, going about their routines. Percy tended to the horses, checking over them after the hard day's ride before wandering down towards the river to grab water. Annabeth prepared their meal after grabbing the wood, noting the feminine jobs she had appeared to get. Having never put as much consideration into cooking as she did into training, she only knew how to make simple meals. Thankfully, most of their food had already been cooked by the tavern chef's so all Annabeth had to do was divvy up and serve.

"How did you know Octavian?" she asked, after they had settled down.

Percy, who was lying casually on his bedroll, lifted himself up onto his elbows with a curious expression. "Hard to forget the man who deems you a sacrifice," he stated, lying back down afterwards. "He's the reason I entered the Cave for the second time," he added, gazing upwards.

"But you escaped?"

"Not early enough."

"What's in the Cave?"

Percy shook his head. "Darkness."

Annabeth could see in the firelight that whatever had happened to Percy in the Cave was one of the memories that haunted him. She knew all about repressing memories, having a few herself she would be glad to never see the light of day. Despite understanding, she needed what he knew if she was to succeed in her mission. If she was patient, there would be time for her to coax the walls he built down, but was she prepared to do the same?

"And Reyna?" asked Annabeth, changing the subject.

Percy grinned, looking over to her. "I was wondering when your curiosity would get the better of you."

"You said you were both hunting Octavian," she prompted, trying not to frown at the implication.

He looked back up to the sky. "I tried a stint as a bounty hunter for a time after my second brush with the Cave. Reyna, also a bounty hunter if you didn't pick that up, was hunting the same bandit at the time. After a few frosty encounters, we decided to team up to catch them, and then for a few more."

"Team up," she repeated, relaxing a little into her bedroll.

Percy shrugged with a smile. "We were travelling alone together. Nights got cold, tensions needed to be released, you know what it's like. It was never anything more than that. We were pretty efficient together, catching more felons than any other bounty hunter, all the while keeping a close ear to the ground about Octavian and his cult. Eventually I saw how toxic our occupation and living arrangement was and couldn't do it anymore. I tried to convince her to do the same, but she was determined to find and kill him."

"What did he do to her? I only ask because it sounds personal," she added when Percy glanced her way.

"She lived in a colony to the east," answered Percy. "They kept to themselves and were mostly peaceful. They had the odd disagreements here and there but they were always resolved with minimal long-term effects. Octavian was part of that colony and was the instigator in its destruction with his religious preaching and radical ideals. He believed he was the prophet set to bring about a new age. Beginning, of course, with the attainment of the Crystal."

"He destroyed their colony?" repeated Annabeth aghast.

"It's all Reyna would say but I'm assuming he took his followers with him and sacrificed those who didn't believe. I think she and a few other of the stronger fighters were on a hunting trip and when they came back …"

Annabeth stared into the flames. She couldn't imagine what that would feel like, to come home and found everyone you loved either gone or dead. She glanced over at Percy, who was lost in his own thoughts, probably thoughts similar to Annabeth's. Her dreams were plagued with memories of her father. There was another woman, her stern voice floating around her but never a clear image of her face. She woke with that voice yelling her name, trying not to gasp.

Years had passed since she dreamt about her parents, of the mother who was never around, never bothered to check in on Annabeth. She would wake from nightmares and cry out for her, hoping that somewhere, somehow, she would hear her daughter's screams. But that was foolish, child-like and Annabeth grew to despise and, in a way, appreciate her. She made Annabeth into a tough, independent fighter, using logic and level-headed strategies instead of emotion to make decisions.

Riding beside Percy, she thought of Reyna's story, of her dream, of her silent code. She glanced over to him, hoping finding another annoying habit of his would distract her. He appeared asleep in his saddle, as he often did when they rested the horses from a hard gallop. She had strayed sometimes on the logical decision making when it came to Luke, but she had reassured herself it was only on minor occasions. Seeing Percy as carefree as he was, she contemplated whether she would do the same with him. She shook her head, dismissing the notion.

Their next couple of days brought about a change in scenery. The forest around the road cleared into grassy plains, open for any to see who travelled. They passed a few merchants and groups along the road, Annabeth steering clear while Percy good-naturedly interacted with them when they asked about travel conditions. Judging by the way they left her alone, she would say her scowl was working. Percy would often look in her direction after the travellers would swiftly pass and chuckle with a small shake of her head. She held her snappish response, hoping her glower was enough to remind him to keep his opinions to himself.

In a patch where they had a strip of road to themselves, Percy whistled to catch her attention. She had been passing the time reading and sketching in her book and map. He had wisely decided not to press his curiosity after she had thrown a rock at his head for snooping when they had stopped for a break. Glancing to him, he whistled again and gestured ahead, pointing out the dark rolling clouds they were approaching.

"No shelter anywhere near," Percy answered her silent query. "Unless you got something in that book of yours."

Annabeth shook her head, her eyes scanning the horizon for anything that could pass as a shelter. "Will it pass?" she asked.

"Possibly but I doubt it. Hunker down, we're about to get wet," he said, throwing up his hood.

Annabeth had only three minutes to prepare before the rain came at them like a wave. Within a minute they were soaked. Annabeth could barely see in front of her, let alone hear Percy as rain poured down around them. They continued to gallop on for ten minutes before Percy gestured they stop, swinging from his saddle to approach her.

"We can't keep going like this," he shouted over the rain.

"Where can we stop?" she shouted back. "You said yourself, there's nothing out here."

Percy glanced around even though he knew it was useless. Annabeth was right. "I'll walk the horses. It's too dangerous not to. You keep an eye out."

Annabeth had to admire Percy's perseverance as he trudged through the muddied road, leading her and the horses. She lost track of time, altering between hunkering down in her saddle to standing in her stirrups, straining her eyes trying to find shelter. And the rain just kept coming down, determined to drown them. Just as Annabeth was beginning to wonder whether she would ever be dry again, she spotted it. The tiniest flicker of light that at first, she wasn't sure if it was real or a trick of the light. But no, there it was!

In her excitement, she slapped Percy so hard on the back that he slipped forward. His expression was a mixture of fury and startlement when he faced her. She thought she heard him swear in relief when she pointed out the light, directing the horses to their right, abandoning the road altogether. The light came from an old-style looking house. Annabeth could see a river twist around the entrance and beyond, it's banks brimming with the downpour. There was another roar coming from behind the house and it took Annabeth a minute to realise the house must be situated near a small cliff face, the river no doubt turning into a waterfall.

"I'll take care of the horses," said Percy when they reached the elaborate front gate.

As Percy cautiously took the horses back down the path, Annabeth thought she heard him muttering to them. Shaking her head and spraying the ground with more water, she hurried to knock on the heavily polished door, the light spewing from the windows teasing her with their warmth. A young woman, a year or two younger than Annabeth, answered her persistent knocking, a lantern in one hand.

"So sorry to bother you," said Annabeth, repeating it louder when the woman looked confused. She pulled down her hood, instantly having to blink the water from her eyes. "My companion and I got stuck in this rain. We saw the light from your windows and was wondering if we could stay until this blew over? We will pay if necessary."

The woman's brown eyes surveyed Annabeth's soaking figure, right down to her mud-stained boots. She was slim, with a simple dress and a servant cap over her hair. Her expression turned cautious, her doubt making her bite her bottom lip as she glanced behind her shoulder and then out behind Annabeth. The servant looked weak and she was defenceless against a trained Elite. If she refused, Annabeth could force her to let them in. Wait, why would she think that? There was no need for violence. Was she that desperate that she would hurt this innocent girl just to get inside?

"Please?" asked Annabeth, close to pleading.

Percy reappeared as the woman nodded, ushering them inside. Instant warmth hit them once they entered the hallway and Annabeth almost moaned. She thanked the woman, apologising for the muddied mess they were about to make on the carpets.

"It's alright," the girl admitted. "My mistress will understand when she sees …" she stopped when Percy pulled back his hood. Annabeth frowned at the look of fear and trepidation on her face as she gazed at him. Annabeth whirled around to him, about to demand an answer, but he looked confused and concerned by the girl's reaction. "You didn't tell me your companion was a man?" she accused Annabeth weakly.

"Is that a problem?" asked Annabeth warily.

She was silent, deliberating before she answered. "No, no of course not," the woman assured them. She even smiled at Percy, as though her previous reaction didn't happen. Annabeth wasn't convinced, and neither it appeared, was Percy. "My mistress, Miss C, has already retired for the afternoon, but she would be delighted to have you two stay as her guests for dinner," the woman said in an almost bubbly tone.

She took them down the hallway and up the main flight of stairs. Percy wisely kept his distance behind the two of them.

"There are spare rooms on the northern wing. I can arrange a bigger room for you and … is he your husband?" she added in a whisper to Annabeth.

Annabeth snorted. "Definitely not," she said. "We met on the road and thought it best to travel together to avoid any troubles," she lied after catching the raised eyebrow of the servant.

Her mission was of the utmost secrecy, even if rumours were already swirling. This girl didn't need to know what she and Percy were really up to, and if anyone happened to arrive and ask questions, they wouldn't suspect two innocent travellers caught in a storm to be Elite fighters.

"I see," she said, glancing back towards Percy, who appeared interested in the interior of the house. Though what he saw, apparently puzzled him. "We can give you separate rooms if you prefer?"

"Please don't go to much trouble over us. Once the storm has passed, we will continue on our way."

"Oh, but you must stay! Our mistress won't want you to think of her as a bad host. Plus, the river is sure to rise to dangerous levels. Better to wait until it drops a little first."

Annabeth's suspicions flared at the servant's insistences, but she kept it from registering on her face, instead thanking her for her generosity. She took in the interior of the house, the antiquities that surrounded them. Pristine rugs covered polished floors, with beautifully dark wooden walls. The whole house had an ancient feel to it; as if it had stood for a long time and would continue to do so long after they had left the shelter of its walls.

The room Annabeth was given had an adjoining door to Percy's and was huge. It could have almost been a house on its own. A bedroom, bathroom, balcony and sitting room, all furnished, complete with an already burning fireplace. Clearly, word had gotten around in the household of their guests. Annabeth gravitated towards the warmth, almost missing the woman explaining another servant would bring them towels and then later they would be escorted to their dinner with the owner, Miss C. Percy entered her room from his adjoining door a few minutes later, moving towards the fire as he removed his cloak.

"Where are the horses?" asked Annabeth.

"Found a clump of trees that will give them some cover," he answered, inspecting a painting above the fireplace as he warmed his hands.

"Did you grab the bags from the saddles?"

"Thought it best to leave them there."

Annabeth's head whipped towards him. "My stuff was in that bag!"

"And it's going to stay there. We needed to look like desperate, harmless travellers on foot, with nothing but the clothes on our backs."

"We were desperate," she hissed.

"And your scowl can frighten even the toughest fighter," countered Percy, unconcerned. "Trust me, your stuff is fine." He turned back to the painting. "There's something about this woman. I can't seem to recall … Can you?"

There was a knock at the door. Another servant, younger than their welcomer, stood with towels in her hands. She wore a similar dress and servant cap as the other woman, though this woman was a lot more petite with brown eyes. She took one look at Percy and stepped back, blushing bright red. Annabeth forgot that Percy was supposed to be in the other room.

"Towels for you both," she said in a soft voice.

"Thank you," said Percy warmly with a smile. He reached out to take the towels from her, but she flinched and withdrew. He hesitated, pulling his hands back. Annabeth strode forward and took the towels with a smile and a word of thanks. Once the door was closed, Annabeth rounded to him.

"Okay, what did you do to these women?"

"I swear, I've never been here before," he said. He was looking troubled as he stared at the door the servant just left. "I didn't even know this place existed."

Annabeth could see he was telling the truth and if that was the case, then what was it about Percy that had them so tentative. Did he look like someone they knew? She glanced towards him as he wandered to his room to use the bathroom. It was possible, but she wasn't convinced. His shoulders were broad for his body type, his eye colour a rare shade of green … he wasn't an anomaly, but he wasn't common either. The only thing that could possibly unnerve the servants was that he was male; a trait he couldn't change.

Shaking her head at the bizarre behaviour of the servants, she removed her cloak, placing it beside Percy's by the fire. Grabbing a towel to dry her hair, she inspected the room, kicking off her boots in the process. This wasn't a mere guest room. Whoever used to own this house built this room with a certain occupant in mind. She moved around the rooms, her eyes on the walls, her fingers tracing the grooves around the bedhead.

"What are you doing?" asked Percy from the bedroom doorway. "Is this your subtle way of inviting me into your bedroom?"

Annabeth rolled her eyes but kept running her fingers over the wood. "Searching for hidden doors," she replied simply, as if it was normal. She wished she had her notebook.

Percy laughed. "How many have you found in the past?"

"There's six at the Elite base," Annabeth told him. She turned her head to glance at him, unsurprised to see his shirt was off. He was ruffling up his hair in one of the towels, stopping when he heard her answer. She smirked at him. "You didn't know?"

"I knew of a couple," he admitted, continuing to ruffle his hair. "But six?"

"Rich people always needed alternate escape routes and hidey holes to store their wealth," shrugged Annabeth. Watching him dry off, she had the strangest urge to go over and run her hands through his hair. She blinked, grabbing the end of the bed to stop her feet from moving. Percy, who was in the process of drying his face, didn't notice as she hastily focused back on the wall.

"Huh," he said, grudgingly impressed. "Well, I'm beat so I'm going to try and sleep. Happy, uh, searching."

Annabeth happened to glance over as he was heading back towards the fireplace and was almost about to say something in her surprise. A burn scar, about the size of a dinner plate stretched over his left shoulder blade. Considering the amount of time he spent without a shirt, she couldn't understand how she failed to notice it before. Thinking back on those times, she hadn't been close enough to see him fighting in the pit and afterwards he was wearing a robe when she met him in his room. In the tavern he had draped shirt over that particular shoulder when he walked in. Was he covering it? If so, why?

Maybe she was just overthinking it. He was a fighter, as was she. Scars were inevitable in their line of work. Even she wouldn't be able to explain where all her scars came from and in the end, who would really want to know? Percy had wandered back to his room after he was dry enough to take a nap. Annabeth too, eyed the bed with longing but her suspicious nature won out, so she chose instead to sit in front of the fire and read one of the books on the shelf as the rain continued to fall heavily outside.

The day slowly slipped away and the rain appeared to finally slow to a steady drizzle as the night began. Annabeth was starting to nod off when a knock startled her to her feet. Three servant girls entered, two carrying baskets and the other a dress. They explained they needed to make Annabeth presentable for her dinner with their mistress. The next couple of hours, despite her heavy protests, Annabeth was scrubbed clean from head to toe (her privacy be damned!), her hair cut and styled, makeup applied to her face and a gold shimmer powder added to her arms and chest before she could put on the dress they supplied.

The dress was sleeveless and made of silk, flowing down to her feet. A silver sheen flickered through the dress as she moved, the gold shimmer powder making her skin glow. Her hair was braided with gold, with loose curls tumbling down one of her shoulders. Her eyes had a smoky look about them, making her seem beautiful and aloof. They provided her with simple leather sandals, again, highlighted with bits of gold. She looked beautiful and regal, like a lady of high class and esteem. She had never put much effort into her appearance, only considering it when Luke was having a dinner but, in the end, always wearing what she knew to be practical and comfortable. The woman looking back at her from the mirror didn't look like her at all, and she wasn't sure whether she truly liked her.

As the servants were putting the finishing touches to her makeup, periodically sighing and smiling at her reflection, Percy burst into the room. The servants scattered at his presence, almost smearing the work they had done on her face. He looked uncomfortable, shaking his head and flinching as he continually glanced back towards the door; but that wasn't what had Annabeth fixated on him. Washed and cleaned as she had been, Percy looked handsome. His messy hair had been styled, his travelling clothes swapped for charcoal coloured pants and jacket, a black long-sleeved shirt underneath that opened at his neck. The ensemble highlighted his tanned skin and the unique green colour of his eyes and that strange longing she experienced earlier returned.

"What happened to you?" asked Annabeth.

"They … the girl servants said they were to assist with getting ready for the dinner. Which is fine, but then they, they helped and … and scrubbed … scrubbed everywhere."

Annabeth tried to keep her amused smile from her face. He struggled to remain composed, blushing as he kept a watchful eye on the door, worried they were about to follow him in. "The mighty Percy afraid of a couple of servant girls," Annabeth joked lightly, trying to push down that strange impulsion. "Are you shy?"

"Oh, ha ha," he said in a clipped tone. "Laugh all you want but if the roles were reversed and it was some group of guys getting handsy to you then you –."

Percy finally faced her mid-sentence and froze. He appeared to stand a little taller as he took her in. His eyes moved down her dress before finding her stare. He looked as though he wanted to say something but couldn't, instead opting to run a hand through his styled hair, making it messy again. After witnessing his demeanour, Annabeth found herself unable to look at him, instead nervously playing with the side of her dress. She had seen other women at balls and gatherings have that same silencing effect when they entered the room. Admiration and jealousy always struck Annabeth when she saw those women, but could it be possible if she paid a little attention to her hair and attire that she could be the same? She hoped she wasn't blushing and wanted to curse her sudden bout of shyness.

"You, uh," Percy started, but another knock interrupted him and before she knew it, they were being ushered down the hall, then the stairs and into a large dining room.

A twenty-person seated table, the central feature of the room, sat underneath a beautiful grand chandelier. The woman that met them, Miss C, was beautiful and explained the portrait Percy had been looking at in Annabeth's room. She was wearing a black flowing dress, with her long dark hair braided with gold, identical to Annabeth's. Her eyes were a piercing green, though she smiled warmly at Annabeth, that smile stiffened when it was directed at Percy. She too, disapproved of Percy's presence in her house. It was that look that brought back Annabeth's suspicions and Percy's earlier mention of the familiarity of the painting.

"You poor, weary travellers," Miss C said, gesturing to the three seats already set at one end. "When my dear Helena told me that you were stuck in that storm, begging for shelter my heart went out for you. I'm so glad you decided to stay for dinner."

"We appreciate your generosity and hospitality, Miss C," Annabeth replied, deciding it would be best she do the talking. Percy was eyeing their host and the servants carefully, clearly uncomfortable. "This house is so beautiful. Tell me how you keep it is such pristine condition?"

"This is delightful," Miss C told Annabeth as their entrée of soup was served. "I so rarely get guests. This house has been in my family for three generations starting with my grandmother. She was a weaver. Most of the carpets and tapestries in this house were made by her. She was the most sort after weaver, with many coming from all over just to see her weave. Do you know much about looms, my dear?" Percy's eyes widened a little at the information, his posture stiffening.

"I'm afraid very little," admitted Annabeth. "But my mother used to dabble in it." She could feel Percy's eyes shift to her. She took a sip of the wine and ignored his gaze, scolding her carelessness. Since the dream, her mother had been on her mind and it was foolish and dangerous to slip and bring her into casual conversation, even one as private as theirs. Not even Luke knew of Annabeth's past.

"It is a dying art," Miss C agreed sadly, sipping at her own glass of wine. "My mother, bless her heart, tried to continue with my grandmother's legacy but she was driven out for other, favourable options. But enough of this dreary subject," she said with a smile. "Please, tell me about yourself."

Annabeth kept her answers vague as they finished their soup and moved onto the main course. The food was delicious, but Annabeth was careful not to eat or drink too much. Percy seemed content not to touch anything in front of him, but after a long stare from Miss C in his direction, he sipped sparingly, eating only the bare minimal that was considered polite. After their plates had been cleared and they were waiting for dessert, did Miss C decide to turn her attention to him.

"What do you do?" she demanded of him.

"I'm a traveller, ma'am," he replied formally.

"Is that what he told you?" she asked Annabeth sceptically. She didn't wait for Annabeth to answer, just faced Percy again. Her eyes darkened. "You know what I despise? Men, and their lies."

Percy blinked, his jaw clenching but he said nothing. He blinked again, swaying a little in his seat.

"It was men who cast my mother out," Miss C continued. "Used her, seduced her and then replaced her with men they thought were better." She turned to Annabeth. "Did he make you promises, my dear? Did he vow to protect you at a cost? Don't worry. He won't be harming you any further." She smiled viciously at Percy. "I've seen to that."


	5. Chapter 5

**As always, these characters do not belong to me.**

**Chapter Five**

* * *

Percy lurched to his feet, his chair screeching against the floor. He tried to focus on Miss C but struggled to keep his eyes open. "What did you do to me?" he demanded. His voice slurred. Annabeth leapt to her feet when he collapsed, struggling to rise.

"Gave you a sedative," she said unconcerned. "Only him, dear," she assured a shocked Annabeth. Miss C rose calmly to her feet. "My mother drank herself to death after what those men did to her, so I went after them. I did the same thing to them and they branded me a witch. Me! While they do the exact same thing and are branded heroes. I vowed that any man who crosses my path understands how pathetic and worthless they truly are."

Percy tried to fight against the sedative he was given but was losing. "You can't … judge … all … same."

"But you are all the same," she disagreed. She strode over to him, gently prodding him onto his back with her foot. "The moment you realise this, you'll want this too." Percy glanced once towards Annabeth, before finally succumbing to the sedative. Four servants ran in to half carry, half drag him from the room. Miss C faced Annabeth with a friendly smile. "I'm sorry we couldn't help you sooner, Annabeth. We couldn't let him suspect."

"How long would he be out?" she asked in a shocked voice.

"No time at all. Unfortunately, our metabolism burns through my concoction rather quickly, but he will be where he needs to be without incident," she answered with a smile. She sat back down, urging Annabeth to do the same as dessert was being rolled in on a cart. "Now, dear Hylla told me about your predicament with the young fellow. How he urged you to join him on his travels to avoid any other man's unwanted attention and how he wouldn't leave you alone while you were here. How terrified you must have been! Never to worry though, I can offer you a place here, at my home. You will be safe here, with no judgement, scrutiny or vile pigs harassing you."

Annabeth could see that Hylla had exaggerated Annabeth's one throwaway lie and turned Percy into a predator. She was in a dangerous position. She had to keep quiet while Percy was being prosecuted, if only to give herself a chance to get them both out. This offer wasn't one at all, but rather an ultimatum; join Miss C, who Annabeth was beginning to have a shrewd idea who she really was or join the ideals of men. So, she rearranged her face to be one of relief and fear, asking her host if she may have a night to think on it. It was a big decision, she reasoned, after having a lifetime of singular thinking. The hostess agreed and after their pudding, Annabeth was escorted back to her room.

Once alone, Annabeth set to work. Percy's only chance was for her to find a hidden hallway and sneak them away. She was not convinced Miss C had believed her and was almost sure that an extra number of servants would be moving around the house that evening. She predicted she would only have about an hour before one such servant would check on her. First though, she had to change out of the sandals she was forced to wear and slip back into her comfortable boots. Changing clothes would take too long so the dress had to stay.

Annabeth had already checked her bedroom and bathroom thoroughly before the dinner and couldn't find anything, confining her search to the sitting room. The fireplace she checked first, then the other walls but coming up bare. Panicking, she thought she had miscalculated how old the house was until she spotted the adjoining door Percy had been coming and going in earlier. Practically running, she took stock of his room, noting its near replica of her own and started her search. Bathroom, sitting room, nothing and she knew her allotted hour was almost up. The bedroom; cupboard was no good, as was the three paintings in the room. She was beside the end of the bed when she spotted it; a strange join on the frame. She twisted it and with a heavy groan and puff of dust, a small opening appeared on the back wall. Thanking the architect, she hurried to grab a lantern and enter the small hall.

Her next problem was trying to find where they took Percy. She could only assume that Miss C had a cellar or basement that she had transformed into a prison but having a hunch and actually finding it to be true were two different things. She shuddered at the number of cobwebs the lantern illuminated in the hallway, hastening her pace and praying that their makers were long gone. Taking on the various knowledge she had acquired, she followed the hallway, encountering a startling amount of crossroads but only having to backtrack on a couple of them. Finally, she could smell the dankness strengthening, a chilly breeze accompanying it and she knew she was getting close.

Annabeth came out of the passageway near a set of stairs, ducking back in when she heard voices. Waiting until she was sure they had gone, she peaked her nose out again, darting down the stairs, almost slipping in her haste to stop. She had found the cellar and she was right in thinking it had been transformed into a dungeon but what she wasn't expecting was the dozen pairs of eyes that met her from the dark.

"Percy?" she called out tentatively, moving from cell to cell trying to find him.

"Annabeth?"

She hurried to the last cell, sighing when he appeared unharmed and he too, smiled when he saw her. She wasn't the only one relieved to see her companion. He was holding heavily onto the bars, looking a little groggy from the sedative. The other prisoners, at least, had the sense to keep quiet.

"I'm sorry about not defending you," she said, checking to make sure he didn't have any further injuries.

"No, no, I understand why you didn't. Let's just get out of here."

"You were right about your suspicions," said Annabeth, pulling her the heel sole of her shoe apart. Percy kept his eyes on the stairwell. "Our host, Miss C is actually named Circe."

"I thought she was dead," said Percy after swearing angrily. He watched as she set about freeing him from his cage. "You keep a lockpick in your boot?" he asked in surprise.

"Yes," she grunted.

"Isn't that uncomfortable? Right, keep quiet so you can concentrate, sorry," he added after Annabeth glared up at him.

The lock clicked and the door swung open with a loud screech from disuse. Percy tumbled out, waiting for Annabeth to re-attach the heel of her boot. He twitched a little as he waited, a possible side effect of the sedative. Annabeth hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, glancing back towards the other prisoners, another plan forming.

"What are you doing?" asked Percy, coming back to see her unlocking the closest one.

"We need a distraction," she told him.

"I don't think we have the time. They would have noticed you are gone by now and suspect where you are."

"Girl, if you get me out, I'll be your distraction," a gruff voice two cells down promised.

Annabeth made quick work of the six cells, each man thanking her before running off into the house. They could hear the first screams echoing down the stairs as Annabeth worked on the last cell. The owner of that cell was tall and broad, his dark hair and beard very overgrown.

"How'd the two of you get here?" he asked, his voice deep as Annabeth opened his cell.

"Horses," she answered warily, taking a step back. He slowly followed her, his eyes watching her carefully and Percy behind her. He clearly wasn't prepared to be a distraction.

"And where would they be, exactly?"

"Frightened away by the storm," Percy cut in, his voice as hard as his expression.

"Don't make this hard," the prisoner growled, pulling from his pocket a rusty knife. It was only then that Annabeth remembered her knife, probably amongst her discarded clothes in her room. She cursed, having never forgotten her knife before, ever. "I was saving this for the woman, but I have no hesitation on using it on the both of you. Let me have one of your horses and that will be that. Better be me than one of the others you released. She may be mad, but they aren't exactly moral citizens."

Annabeth's stomach dropped. She had released predators into a house full of women, most only wanting to escape a less than happy life. The screams they heard next had her wincing.

"As I said," Percy continued. "They ran off in the storm."

"Funny, I don't believe you," the man growled.

A loud bang rattled the house and Percy struck the man while he was distracted. He howled in pain and anger as Annabeth fled up the stairs, Percy hot on her trail. She found the passageway door, slipping into it as a couple of servants fled past them. She could hear the man's angered shouts as they ran through, Annabeth only just remembering to grab a lantern before they entered.

"Just give me a sec," said Annabeth, coming to a halt.

Percy waited patiently; his gaze fixated on the path they just came from. She got her bearings, deciphering where an exit point would be. Picking her route, she set off, Percy following. He exclaimed in disbelief when they flew down a small set of stairs and into a small open space, across from them a door. A small puddle of water sat around the bottom of the door and with both of them shoving with a mixture of grunts and swearing, they got the door free.

The door opened at the back of the house, darkness stretching ahead of them. Shouts and screams came from the side of the house, both Percy and Annabeth opting to run far from the house as possible. Percy led this time, following the river and only slowing when they reached the edge of the cliff Annabeth deduced there had been earlier that day. The river continued over the cliff and beyond, only the sound of rushing water giving to the river's vastness. More shouts came from the house and an angered yell; the long-bearded prisoner wanting to steal one of their horses had escaped the house. A lantern began to bob around from the direction of the front door, heading their way.

"You need to jump," said Percy. Annabeth just stared at him, too shocked to tell him he was crazy. "Aim for the broken water there, it will help diffuse the impact." Annabeth glanced down, then back to him. It wasn't a deep jump but still high enough to make her nervous. "Don't think," he stated. "Just jump." He took a step back to give her space as the yells got louder. "I'll be right behind you."

Taking a deep breath, Annabeth closed her eyes and jumped, keeping her scream from escaping. The water was cold on impact and the dress instantly weighed her down. Her head broke the surface as Percy leapt from the ridge, the current already pulling her downstream. She tried to call out to him, but the dress pulled her under, causing her to swallow a mouthful of water. She rose, coughing and choking when Percy grabbed her from behind, guiding her body back onto his, an arm wrapping around her chest and his fingers resting under her chin to keep her afloat.

"Just relax," he told her. "I can swim for both of us."

Percy kept Annabeth afloat on his chest, backstroking them with one arm down the river, letting the current do most of the work. Once the lights of Circe's house had long disappeared into the night did Percy guide them to the bank, making sure Annabeth got up first before crawling up beside her. They lay beside each other in the mud, trying to catch their breath after a whirlwind last several hours.

Eventually they got up, moving into the forest. It wasn't looking good for them. No horses, no supplies or weapons and Annabeth was stuck in a dress. She grabbed up a tuft of the soaking material as they walked after having to stop several times to unsnag it from a stray bush or branch. Percy whistled loudly, startling her so much that she nearly slipped. He waited a few steps before whistling again. When he did it a third time, Annabeth was about to reprimand him on keeping quiet when movement shuffled ahead of them. She dropped her dress, prepared to fight when a small dapple of moonlight revealed Blackjack, followed a little timidly by Silver Mist.

"That a boy!" Percy exclaimed with a smile, holding his horse's head in his hands, placing his forehead on his. He continued to talk to both horses, gently praising them for finding their owners.

"How?" Annabeth breathed.

Percy smiled at her. "A lot of training. But it was all worth it."

"Did you know we would need to make a quick exit?" asked Annabeth.

"A precaution," replied Percy, pulling packs from Blackjack's saddle and handing them to Annabeth. She released with a start that they were her own, inside her knife and clothes. She looked up to him for an explanation. "I wasn't sure whether the mare would stick around so I placed all your stuff on Blackjack. Turns out she likes you enough to stay."

"My knife? You took it off me when you leaned over to tell me what you were doing with the horses," she deduced. If she wasn't so tired, she would've punched him.

"Probably lucky I did in the end. Did you want to change? Figured you wouldn't want to ride in that dress."

They rode long into the night, wanting to get as far from Circe's house as possible. They didn't think they would have pursuers, but the prisoners would want to escape after having their fun and it was best not to be the first travellers they came across. Percy volunteered to keep awake and guide the horses. Annabeth suspected being sedated had something to do with it. She wasn't complaining, though she did find it difficult to get comfortable in her saddle, even after tossing the infernal dress into the river and slipping into something familiar. Percy had offered to hold her in his saddle at one stage when he saw her struggle but after their swim together, she decided heavily against it. She nodded on and off, hearing a strange sort of song in her bouts of consciousness.

Annabeth judged it was a couple of hours before sunrise when Percy stopped the horses, admitting he needed sleep. She took over, guiding the two horses forward at a walk while he seemingly fell asleep almost immediately after handing over the reins. Once the first streaks of light appeared on the horizon, Annabeth tried to judge the distance to the next town. She would have preferred to skip it, but they needed supplies, having lost a set of clothes and their cloaks back at Circe's. She also needed to check in with Luke and let him know of her progress.

It was another day before they could see the town in the distance. They rode in, Percy giving her space to check in. She was grateful to have some time alone, just to process the events of the last couple of days. Guilt continued to gnaw at her. She didn't even hesitate or stop to think when Percy had been taken; and that scared her. Would he do the same? Judging his character, yes, he would but that wasn't Annabeth. Annabeth was the logical one, the one that needed to have plans on top of plans before putting them into action. So far, her only plan of retrieving the Crystal had taken a sideways turn, detoured again and ended almost at a complete stop.

She needed to get back to the task at hand. Her focus had strayed, and it couldn't any longer. Resolved, she went to find Percy, grabbing something to eat in the process. The town they were in, a small town with a name Annabeth hadn't bothered to remember, was vibrant with colour and noise. Many children ran through the streets with long colourful ribbons as music played in a small square ahead. Annabeth, leading Silver Mist, followed the children, unable to stop the smile coming to her face.

Percy was standing in the shade of a large tree on the opposite side of the square, watching a performance on the small, makeshift stage. He looked bemused as he watched, shaking his head often. The crowd was so thick that Annabeth could only see the performance when she got to his side after placing Silver Mist with Blackjack. Two men, identical down to the wave of their brown curls, had everyone rapt with their skit, doing everything the same, popping up throughout the crowd before disappearing again, only to reappear back on the stage.

"May I present, the Stoll Brothers," Percy introduced.

"Stole?"

Percy smiled. "The irony doesn't pass them. I think they chose it themselves. S, T, O, double L, though."

Annabeth continued to watch, not missing the sleight of hand skill. It reminded Annabeth of a teacher long ago when she was on the streets, struggling for food. She had seen the woman before but this time, the woman had spotted Annabeth. Annabeth's curiosity had her following the woman, watching in the shadows as she met with the locals, her hands slipping into their pockets and withdrawing coins. Awed, she continued to follow the woman out of the town, who called out to her when they were a safe distance from the townsfolk. She proceeded to show Annabeth a few tricks to keep her at least from going hungry, citing her skill from a particular leader and his faction.

"They were apprentices of Hermes?"

"One of his best," Percy confirmed. "Or so they boast. It's easy to fool the unsuspecting when your brother looks exactly the same."

"Don't you mean 'twin'?"

"Nah. Travis is a year or two older than Connor. And looks like you're about to meet them."

The brothers moved through the crowd, coming towards them. The crowd were loving the theatrics of the main brother, who distracted the people long enough for his brother to reach into their pockets. What surprised her though, was that the brother only stole from select members of the crowd, ignoring a several people close by to filch from riskier villagers.

"And what do we have here?" the main brother said loudly, sidling up to them. "These two don't looked happy."

"We can change that," the other said, sidling up beside Annabeth.

Annabeth grabbed his hand, tight enough that a slight twist would break it. "Put your hand there again and I'll chop it off," she warned, glaring at him.

Startled, he snatched his hand back, slightly impressed that she had caught him. Percy suppressed his grin. "What do we say folks? Shall we leave them be?" he asked the crowd, moving seamlessly back into a happy façade. The people cheered in response and the brothers moved along, entertaining a small group of children with their antics.

"Come on," said Percy quietly, leading her back onto the road. "They're going to meet us at the tavern once they're finished."

Annabeth assumed the other brother communicated this with Percy during the attempted pickpocketing and was happy to sit down with a couple of pints of ale in front of her. Percy glanced towards her periodically, bemused as he sipped his mead while they waited. Annabeth was on her third when the brothers entered the tavern.

"Thought you would get here a few days ago," the first brother said, sliding in beside Annabeth.

"Waylaid at a house south-east of here," replied Percy.

"You went to Circe's?" the other chortled, handing out drinks before taking his seat next to Percy.

"You knew?" he demanded.

"Course we did," he replied after taking a sip. "Why are you surprised?"

"Information about a witch who hates men could have been useful to know for a travelling man."

"Then maybe you should have asked," the other said. He turned to Annabeth. "We know everything about everyone and what's happening everywhere."

"Except for you," Percy's companion observed. He was watching her with fascination, which led her to believe he was the one who attempted to rob her.

"And you never will," she countered, with a sarcastic smile.

"Give us a day," he winked.

"Dig into my past and I'll dig your intestines out."

"She warms up," Percy assured the paling brothers.

"Can't wait or can," one said with a confused shake of the head. "We need to talk to Percy, alone." Annabeth's eyes narrowed and she saw him flinch slightly. "Nothing personal."

Percy gave her an apologetic look. "Can you please go and entertain yourself for a few minutes?" he asked. Annabeth glared at him. "It's not about what where we're going, I promise."

With a roll of her eyes, Annabeth moved towards the bar, flagging down the barmaid. Making sure she appeared preoccupied, she waited until Percy was focused on the Stoll's and carefully shifted down the bar to be in earshot. Ignoring the leering looks of a drunkard two stools away, she took a sip of her tankard, finding their voices amongst the other noise.

"Your girlfriend needs to loosen up."

"You can go and tell her that," Percy retorted with a grin.

"Oh, I would pay for that," the other one chortled.

The first of the Stoll brothers grinned before saying, "we heard rumours that Luke is sending some of his posse North again."

Percy sighed. "He is."

The brothers looked at each other, one leaning towards Percy. "How do you know …"

Taking a sip, Percy gave a subtle gesture towards her. She hurried to appear interested in the crowd, scowling at the drunks in the corner for good measure.

"Oh Perce …"

"I know what I'm doing," he stated flatly.

"Alright," the one sitting across from him said, though he didn't sound as though he believed Percy. "Problem is, the rumours about Luke going after the Crystal is bringing out every wannabe gang leader, bandit, usurper –."

"Religious fanatics," Percy added sourly.

"Octavian is back?"

"Yes Trav. I've already had the pleasure of that meeting."

"You would think one of these days he would realise no one, literally _no one_, likes him," Travis, who sat beside Percy observed. "And that he should just relocate anywhere else."

"Do we need to send someone to track him?" Connor asked.

Percy shook his head with a sigh. "Reyna is already tracking him."

"Reyna? As in Jason's …" Travis left it hanging after Percy's long stare.

"Continuing on with my information," Connor stated, glaring at his brother. "We're about to have a lot of skirmish's and petty crimes occurring in the majority of towns."

"I was afraid Luke's antics would stir up problems," Percy admitted. "Try and keep your noses to the ground."

"We planned as much," Trav said. "Don't worry Perce. We know what to do."

"There's something else," Connor added. A man belched right into Annabeth's ear so she couldn't hear the name, but she caught the end of his sentence. "– asking for you."

Percy sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I know it's been a long time. It's getting harder to find reputable work. Did she say why?"

Connor shook his head. "It's coming up to winter," he offered with a shrug.

Percy nodded in understanding. "Were you two heading that way?"

"In the next week or so," Travis confirmed.

"You'll get there before me. Take this." He pulled from his pocket a large burlap bag. "It should ease her concern."

Connor inspected the bag. "It should tie us over until spring at least."

"I'll follow and stop by in a couple of weeks, if luck is with us." Percy paused, thinking. "Have you seen Nico?"

Travis replied, "Last we heard he was the head of a bandit group. Will went with him."

Percy nodded. "Can you get a message to him?"

"It's a bit insulting that you still ask that."

Percy ignored the jab. "Get him to head North with the other factions and clans if he hasn't already. We may need an extra set of eyes and fighting hands before this is done. In the meantime, I think it's time to let the eagle fly."

The brothers looked at each other. "Are you sure?" Connor asked concerned.

"If they've noticed what you have, I suspect they're already on their way as we speak," Percy stated. "Who doesn't love reunions?" Annabeth couldn't be sure without staring directly at him, but she thought that the smile he gave the brothers didn't reach his eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

**As always, these characters do not belong to me.**

**Chapter Six**

* * *

"We need to talk."

Annabeth had waited patiently over their next couple of days of their travels, hoping that Percy would begin to describe his experiences with the Cave; the entire reason the two of them were travelling together. After Circe's house, they both needed some time to recover from that experience, but it was time they got back down to the business at hand.

Percy sighed deeply, facing her. His expression was serious enough that she straightened in her saddle, reaching for notebook and pencil.

"I understand it can be frustrating but if it happens again, just kick me and I'm sure I'll stop," he said.

"What are you talking about?" she demanded.

He looked confused. "My snoring. Isn't that what you wanted to talk about?"

"No! And you don't snore," she added, then looked away, confused. When did she notice that?

"I don't? Well, that's good to know," he said happily, smiling.

"How do you do that? Be serious one day and completely immature the next."

"Who wants to be serious all the time? It can age you by ten years, you know."

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "We need to talk about the Cave. You need to tell me what happened to you."

"Today is such a beautiful day," Percy sighed, glancing up to the clear blue sky. "Why ruin it?"

Her patience waned to the slimmest of margins, the urge to punch him almost winning out. "Fine," she snapped. "How about you describe the interior of the Cave instead?"

Percy frowned in thought as the horses walked along. "A lot of it was dark but I could give it a go, I suppose," he answered. "I don't think you'd be able to map it out though."

"I can go off certain rooms," she assured him.

Sceptical, Percy humoured her, describing what he could recall as Annabeth jotted it down. She got him to be as specific as possible, asking question after question until she could picture it herself. Stopping for the evening in a grove of trees, Annabeth let Percy organise their food and the fire while she set to work sketching out his descriptions, improvising when he couldn't remember. Eventually as the night settled in and the air started to cool, Percy drifted over after checking on the horses.

"That's impressive," he stated, looking over her shoulder. "You were able to draw that from what I said?"

"More or less," she replied. "I had to add in these buttresses but going off the style that you described it seemed logical they would shape like that."

"How do you know that?" Percy came and sat down beside her, warming his hands at the fire.

"Have you ever seen a structure and wonder how they made it? Or how they styled it?" Percy shook his head. "Well, I do. It calms me, gives me something to do apart from training or fighting. I would like to build my own design one day."

"A house?" Percy saw her expression and tried to amend. "A couple of houses?"

Annabeth looked down as she smiled, shaking her head a little. "Doesn't matter. It's just a hobby."

"Why does it have to be?" he queried. "That's some serious talent. If you can take what little I could give you and create a near replica without even seeing it yourself, then why can't you have a career as an architect?"

"Once Luke has the Crystal and the Elite can control the bandits and cults, then maybe I can change my role."

Percy said nothing but she thought she heard him sigh. Moving on to sketch the entryway, Annabeth entertained Percy's notion of her being an architect. She didn't know when she started paying attention to structures. Maybe when she was living on the streets, staring longingly on rainy days to the tall pillars, holding the tiled roofs in place. To the lanterns held in intricate brackets at the entrances, guiding their owners back home. Those not rich with coin, had homely houses, roofs thatched, and walls built from sturdy timber, a warm glow and the occasional shouts omitting from opened windows.

She had studied them all from the shadows of the street, jotting down notes along with her sketches of what improvements she could suggest, what style would be better suited to their lifestyle. As she moved through towns and villages, she noticed the different styles each state and their people preferred. Some indulged in marble or the finest wood coin could purchase, while others settled for longevity. It was only then her pages slowly began to fill with her own designs of houses, taverns, inns, stables, even storage homesteads and sheds; she drew them all.

So why couldn't her hobby become something more? Because she had made a commitment to Luke and the Elites. He had done so much for her and she couldn't just abandon him for a fool's dream. Maybe that was due to her feelings, but she knew it wasn't just that. She felt as though she was part of something with the Elites. They were the family she never had and while they weren't the loving type, they were family, nonetheless. Architecture could wait, she had bigger tasks to be accomplished first.

Percy had wandered off to check the horses again, muttering something about being restless. Placing her notebook securely in her bag, Annabeth was ready to call it night when a snap of a twig had her rolling to her feet, her knife in her hand. The scavengers attempted to surround her, but Annabeth with years of training, had predicted this and knew exactly how to gain the upper hand.

It wasn't much of a skirmish, not for Annabeth. Her skills were too strong for her opponents, who appeared to grope blindly for her as she danced around them. This, _this,_ was who she was. Not the naïve girl who got jumped from behind, not the pleading girl who went into danger's embrace because she got a little wet. She was the strong, untouchable knife wielder leaving all those who dare to attack her groaning and choking in the dirt.

Surveying the fallen scavengers, she happened to glance down at her hands, coated in blood. This made her pause, remembering Percy's caution with their previous run in with bandits. Was she the monster? Did she enjoy the violence more than she should? She shook her head. Such thoughts in their situation would lead to hesitation, which could lead potentially to her own death. A flicker of movement had her assuming a defensive stance, but it was only Percy returning from the horses. She relaxed, taking note of his awestruck expression with some annoyance. And satisfaction.

"You could've helped," she stated, cleaning her knife on one of their scavengers.

Replying with a stunned look, Percy said, "You didn't appear to need it." Approaching her, he added, "Where'd you learn to fight like that?"

"You've seen me fight in skirmishes before."

"Not like that," he said with a head shake. "That was … I've never seen anyone fight like that, and I've lived with Arenians."

"They try to be too brutal," Annabeth told him with a slight wrinkle of her nose. "No finesse."

"Oh, I know but …" Percy shook his head again, unable to find words. "They tried to chase the horses away or steal them. Either way, I had to fetch them. I don't think any would be lurking but maybe we should move our camp further down?"

Despite the two of them altering watch duty for the next couple of nights, they encountered no other scavengers or bandits. The next town was large, it's stone walls looming high as they entered through the opened heavy gates with other travellers and farmers. The horses slowed to a walk as they took to the road, Annabeth strenuously declaring their accommodation be near their exit gate. Percy let her lead, entertaining the young children trailing behind them, hoping for food or coin. Annabeth kept a firm eye on her pack, ready to grab snatching hands if they ventured too close.

The inn she chose was moderately higher end than their usual choices, but she was tired, she was dirty, and she felt like spoiling herself. Percy pursed his lips as they entered the inn but kept his opinions silent. Before settling in for the night, she headed out to send a message to Luke. Shame welled up inside her when she realised how behind schedule she was.

"Don't get too comfortable," Annabeth said as she joined Percy at a bench outside the tavern. "We need to make up for lost time."

Percy, carefully slicing an apple, glanced her way with an eyebrow raised. "When did you say you would get this task of yours done?"

"Two months."

Percy laughed. "Isn't that being a little cocky? Did you factor in weather? Not to mention the welfare of your horse. Come to think of it, you were determined on travelling on foot. How on earth were you going to get to the Cave in two months?"

"It was presumptuous, I know," admitted Annabeth, skipping right past that little error in her judgement. "But he was frantic and I –."

"Am in love with him," Percy added slyly.

"Wanted to show that I'm still loyal to him," she finished through gritted teeth.

Percy snorted and sliced another piece of his apple. "I loved him too," he said quietly, looking up at her after a moment of silence. "He was my brother and we went through so much together, so I'll always have that bond with him. But think back. Has he ever gone out of his way to do something for you?" Annabeth found herself unable to answer. Percy's expression was one of understanding. "He offers so many promises, but they are as much for his benefit as they are for you."

Annabeth remained silent, trying to find a hole in Percy's statement. And yet, the more she dug, the more she realised that Percy was right. Her stomach sunk and her heart ached. Was she a fool to love him? Did that make her naïve? Luke had never expressed any feelings towards her, maybe he hadn't noticed? Or maybe he did and exploited her loyalty for it. Percy's sympathetic gaze only made her feel worse.

"It doesn't matter," she said, turning business-like. "I made a promise and I'm going to get it done when I said I would."

Percy shook his head. "That short time frame is impossible. We will get to the Cave, Annabeth. I said I would get your there and I will, but you have to lower your expectations a little."

"Fine, but we leave here first thing tomorrow morning."

"Leave?" a drunkard said as he passed them. "You can't leave tomorrow and miss the Festival of Lights!"

"The what?" asked Annabeth.

The man looked shocked. "The Festival of Lights! Our most renown holiday of the year!"

"Annabeth," Percy whinged. "The Festival of Lights!"

The man mistook Percy's sarcasm for enthusiasm. "Yes, you must stay!"

"Oh, please Annabeth!" Percy pleaded, trying to hide his smirk. "We may never see anything like it again."

"Listen to your partner, hon," the man encouraged.

"He so wishes," Annabeth glared at him. Rolling her eyes, she agreed to stay another day, if only to get rid of their newfound friend.

The Festival of Lights had the town in a frenzy preparing for the big event. Other travellers slowly entered, many families settling down to enjoy the festivities. Annabeth watched from the bench outside the tavern, a drink not far from her hand. A few daring young men eyed her from afar, those brave enough buying her another drink in the hopes of conversation. Annabeth took the drink and while some were attractive enough for her to consider relieving tension, she sent them away. Percy, having watched the last suitor dejectedly walk away, chuckled as he took the seat beside her.

"Cut them a bit of slack, Annabeth," he told her, accepting her free drink, sipping it and grimacing at the mead. "Takes a brave soul to walk up to you when you're scowling like that."

"I'm not scowling," Annabeth argued, finishing her cup.

Percy simply laughed, catching the attention of a few females standing nearby. "You're too closed off," he told her. "Too secretive. We have some time, tell me about yourself?"

"There's nothing to tell."

"Encontré. There's never nothing." Percy waited, adding when Annabeth looked away. "Look, I'm not a judgy man –."

"People say that and when you do bring up personal things, they get this look …" Annabeth looked down at her cup, clenching her jaw.

"Did you sleep with your cousin?" he asked sympathetically.

"What? No!"

"Oh, you hate sweets," he deduced.

"Are you making fun of me?"

"Wait, I got it!" he exclaimed, clicking his fingers. "You pickpocketed an elderly lady."

"Of course not," she snorted.

"Then what are you worrying about?" he asked with a smile, taking a drink.

"Did you do all of that?" she asked curiously.

"No, no, I don't have cousins." He frowned. "Well, I might. But I don't know them. There was that one girl from that sea tavern that had black hair like mine …" Annabeth smiled at his worried frown, huffing a small chuckle into her cup. She looked up to see him smiling at her reaction. "You are allowed to enjoy yourself, Annabeth."

Rolling her eyes, Annabeth ordered another cup, watching as the sun slowly set and the excitement build around them. The moon was full, the torches lining the roads were lit and the festival got underway. Percy grabbed Annabeth and dragged her into the centre where all had gathered. Music was played by a merry band, urging all to dance or clap their hands along with the tune. Percy raised a questioning eyebrow when others around them partnered up to dance, smiling and shaking his head when she refused.

They moved along, sampling small delicacies from all areas of the country, which surprised Annabeth. While she was happy with smoked lamb and a delicious drizzled sauce almost causing her to groan in longing, Percy favoured a seafood vendor, who was more than happy to talk to Percy endlessly about his fishing expeditions. After tasting a rather flavour-filled fish she hadn't heard of, traditional fire breathers entered the small platformed stage, twirling long staffs and flails. The master, altered from booming loudly at the crowd and tossing powder towards the swirling fire patterns, changing the colour of the flames and delighting the crowds as the fire breathers steamed green, red and orange flames towards them.

Annabeth was enjoying herself. Maybe it was the atmosphere, the way the children, so carefree, laughed jubilantly and danced with their friends or family, or the street food, cooked to perfection, or even the amount of mead she had consumed, either way, she found herself smiling. Percy caught her smile, his own mirroring hers. There was something different about his smile, or maybe something different about him but Annabeth found herself wanting to lean towards him, to run her hands through his messy hair and see those beautiful green eyes … wait, what?

She'd consumed too much mead. She looked away, embarrassed by her thoughts. The fire breathers had finished their performance, and everyone was urged down towards the river for the finale of the festival. Amused at the eagerness in the small faces around her, she focused on them instead of the man at her side, though she was very conscious of his presence. She couldn't deny he cut an impressive figure but there was more to someone than their appearance. If she thought about his little annoyances, maybe then she wouldn't be trying her utmost to not look at him.

She glanced around as they passed the outer buildings, figures in the shadows catching her eye. She paused a little, letting the crowd take her further along. There was something about their demeanour that appeared odd. There had been a few of the locals either too drunk to move or simply had seen the festival enough over the years, keeping to the taverns to enjoy the celebrations afterwards with the others. These two, which she determined on closer inspection, moved with a staggered purpose, stopping near buildings and alleyways before heading to the next one.

Bounty hunters? There was no doubt they were looking for someone. Bounty hunters prided themselves on working alone; the man next to her the exclusion. Mercenaries then? The way they were searching was more than just a regular civilian searching for a friend or a parent searching for their child. The first of the lights exploded in the sky, causing Annabeth to jump and glance up. It was beautiful. The array of colours they had managed to combine was incredible as the spark raced high into the sky, exploding into bright blues, reds and greens, the awed crowd vocal in their appreciation.

Annabeth happened to glance back over to the figures as another light ball broke apart in an orange haze, illuminated all, including the two figures. A man, the taller of the two, was watching the crowd, flinching a little at the voice of his companion, a woman, with jet black hair, a scowl darkening her already black eyes. She was pale and thin under her cloak and strangely familiar to Annabeth. Dread laced through Annabeth when she saw the woman point a clawed finger to her companion. She realised who they were and who they were hunting for; her.

Annabeth froze, unable to breathe. It was not true; it could be possible. How was she here? How could she had known? She couldn't feel her legs, her arms, her vision tunnelled, and a high pitch squeak flooded her hearing. Wait, was that her? She was hyperventilating. Was something calling her name? Couldn't be. It was not possible. She had been careful. She couldn't think, she was shaking from head to foot and the woman was coming ever closer. She had to get away, she had to flee, why wasn't she? How did she find her? _How_ did she find her?

Her legs, driven by her adrenaline, raced to the closest shadows, but she was blocked. Walls, walls everywhere. She was trapped. Was this it? Was this how she died? What was that? Was that her? No, there was green. So much green. She found her. She found her after all the precautions Annabeth had taken. Green. Wait. Green eyes. She didn't have green eyes. Percy had green eyes. Percy?

"Annabeth! Breathe! Annabeth! Who found you? Tell me what's going on! Please, Annabeth! Focus on my voice. Focus on me."

She steadied her breathing, enough for her to realised she was repeating the same thing. 'She found me. She found me. She found me'. Percy held her gently, keeping her fearful gaze on him. She was shaking violently, unable to see _her_ but Percy was there, and he wasn't leaving. She struggled with her words, but she eventually said her name with a shaky voice. The name that struck fear into all like Annabeth.

"Arachne."

Percy frowned, glancing back towards festivities then to her. "The Mother of Spiders?" he asked.

Annabeth flinched and nodded, her terror rising just at the name. She needed to leave, she needed to get out. Couldn't Percy see that? Why weren't her legs moving?

"You're Athena's daughter?" he queried, his eyes widening when she nodded frantically. He stood back a little from her, stunned by her revelation. Weird. He nodded then, nodded and appeared to store that information aside. He made her focus on him again. "I know you want to leave, and we will. She won't get to you, not while I'm here but I need you, to tell me, what to do next?"

Was he stupid? They needed to just run and get as far away from this stupid town as they possibly could. They could sneak away easily enough, or could they? Arachne was steering well clear of the crowds, instead circling them, certain that Annabeth would be lurking in the shadows. If they tried to leave now … she would find them. No, the only way they would get out is to …

"We have to blend in with the crowd," she stated in a weak voice.

"There's my girl," Percy praised. He took her hand and she didn't even flinch. "I'll be at your side the entire time. Are you ready?"

Percy wasn't being stupid. Forcing her mind to focus on a problem had briefly abated her terror. While the fear continued to grip her, it wasn't as constricting as before. Percy led her back into the crowd, as the light show in the sky was reaching its crescendo. He kept moving through the people, who, fixated up at the sky, were happy to let the two of them brush pass without incident. Arachne appeared on the other side of the crowd, making them pause and Annabeth's breathing hitch. Percy faced her, his body blocking Arachne and her minion from Annabeth's sight. He gently coaxed her head up, locking his eyes with his. _Focus on me_, he told her silently.

The crowd cheered around them, causing Annabeth to jump. She tried to take calming breaths, but she could feel Arachne moving closer towards them, towards her. The finale of the Lights Festival ended with a display so bright that it was almost as though the sun had risen. She could see Percy clearly, his worry hidden so well that only the tension in his shoulders gave his true emotions away. Applause followed the cheers and couples, even strangers embraced, kissing each other in what must have been a tradition for the festival.

Annabeth would have reacted a whole lot differently if she had not been so focused on Arachne. She would have no doubt given Percy a serve and then would proceed to punch him wherever she could reach until he apologised for the violation. But she was terrified, her head scrambled from that fear and she did nothing but accept his lips when he pulled her closer and kissed her. Somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered whether he kissed her to seem part of the townsfolk and their strange tradition or to somehow snap her back into some sort of clarity of thinking.

When he broke away, he glanced into her eyes, looking a little puzzled. A sound snapped his focus and he carefully guided her head into his chest. Heart racing again, she buried her face into his neck, his arms automatically encircling her. He even swayed them lightly, really selling the loved-up young couple to anyone who was watching or passing.

"She has to be here!" Arachne hissed. Annabeth trembled as they brushed past the two of them. Percy hugged her tighter in response, his hand brushing her cheek to obscure her face from onlookers. "The source was reliable."

"But, Mistress, would she really be amongst, these people?" the big man grunted.

"Probably not," she admitted. "If she's anything like her _mother_, they would consider this a waste of time. I can sense her!" a frustrated Arachne snapped. "She can't be far."

Their voices drifted as they moved through the crowd. Annabeth was still trembling as the crowd slowly made their way back into the town and it took Percy three times to get her to focus on what he was asking her to do. It took all her willpower after she slipped into the darkness and out of the town into the nearby forest to wait for Percy to collect their things instead of using her adrenaline to run as fast as she could northward. She sat herself down against a thick tree, her head in her hands when she wasn't brushing away her tears.


	7. Chapter 7

**Reader warning: Mature content and minor course language. **

**As always, these characters do not belong to me.**

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

Annabeth travelled in silence for two days. Percy said nothing about her red-rimmed eyes, or attempted to talk to her in that time, instead letting her come to terms with the scare. So used to their routines, Annabeth was able to shut off and simply go through the motions. They didn't bother with the next small village, Percy instead getting lucky and catching a couple of rabbits. The day after their encounter, anxiety gripped her when he disappeared from her view to get water or check the horses and snares, and it was only remembering teachings on meditation was she able to calm her hysteria. By the second day after the Festival of Lights, she had managed to gain her composure but continued her silence.

She was embarrassed. Embarrassed and ashamed. She could see Arachne when she closed her eyes and shuddered at her image. The nightmares that came after she finally got to sleep nearly had her screaming when she woke and only a sharp piercing bite of her lip prevented it from escaping. How could she fall apart like this? She was a strong Elite fighter, not some defenceless girl cowering in the shadows while her predator stalked. She should've faced Arachne when she saw her. Why couldn't she face her?

It was her fear. A fear drilled into her when she was a girl, manifesting and settling into the very core of who she was and how she lived. It was that sort of life-manipulating fear that could only be contained with all the strength and willpower the person possessed. It was the sort of deep-entrenched fear that could never be overcome. Since joining Luke and the Elites, Annabeth had been able to lock that fear tightly away, pushing it further and further down until she convinced herself it had never existed. To repress it for so long … well, she could understand why it exploded so spectacularly when she saw Arachne.

Annabeth was eating her lukewarm broth on the evening of the third day when Percy sat beside her. She could judge by his behaviour it was time to talk about it, but she still shirked away from his gaze. She busied herself with eating the contents of her bowl and then retrieving her cup of water, her hand shaking slightly. She wanted to appear nonchalant but knew she was failing terribly. Was it her fear from admitting the truth? Or was it her pride?

"I have questions," Percy said tentatively, searching her face for a reaction.

She glanced down, her fingers tapping against her cup. She gained some courage to look at him. "But tonight is such a lovely night. Why ruin it?" she said, trying to joke but her voice was weak and croaky.

The corners of his lips quirked, though concern was still written on his face. "It's unfair, I know," he said softly. "For me to ask this of you, when I haven't been so forthcoming, but I …" he faltered. He swallowed, taking a deep breath. "The Cave feeds on your fear and pain. All of it. It makes you, _confront_, the worst parts of yourself. It …" he faltered again. Annabeth noticed his hands wringing together. "To many," he continued. "It's too unbearable. I don't want …" he paused. Exhaling loudly, he found his courage, giving her an encouraging smile through his pale expression. "Talking might help."

Percy remained silent, waiting patiently for her to explain. No, not explain, to confide in someone else, to help carry her burden, her fear. He had kept his distance, let her process her encounter with Arachne and the aftermath on her own having only guessed at what had caused her reaction. Didn't he deserve the truth? No one else would have been so patient, not even Luke. If she was to explain, it would have to be from the beginning. Was she prepared to be that open?

"I've never met my mother," she admitted softly, her gaze at the cup in her hands. "I don't even know how my parents met. I was left on my father's doorstep after I was born. If there was a note, my father never told me what was written. I grew up without a mother and with a father, who spent more time studying then tending to his daughter. It wasn't his fault. He just didn't know how to raise a child."

Taking a deep breath, Annabeth continued, her voice loudening but with no emotion. "He thought re-marrying would fix everything. They had two sons, my stepbrothers, and all my stepmother's time went to them. By then I was already independent, so I didn't care but the little jabs she sent in my direction: that I did care about. I left not long after that, knowing it was better for us that I left. I don't think my father even noticed," she added, a little bitterly.

"How old were you?" asked Percy gently.

"Nine, ten," she shrugged. Percy raised an eyebrow but let her carry on. "I had already learned how to look after myself so I figured I could do it elsewhere. Took me a while but I adapted, and I went in search for my mother. I can't remember what town it was in but one of her children, Malcolm, found me. He heard of my interest in Athena and sought me out to warn me. Athena's children were being hunted by a witch of a woman called Arachne, who wanted vengeance. Athena allegedly humiliated her and consequently drove her from her hometown in shame." Percy nodded, somehow hearing the same rumours.

Annabeth sighed and continued. "Arachne couldn't attack Athena directly, Malcolm was unsure why, so she decided to kill her children and send their hearts to her. Her 'children', weren't only her trueborn kin, but those she adopted for their minds. Scholars that shared her passion for knowledge, and of those, she had many. Malcolm warned that if I continued to ask questions about her, I would be tracked and killed. I hadn't truly believed Malcolm after he left but I respected him enough to not ask again. It was in the next town that I realised he was right.

"She had been tracking me, but I was lucky that the next town boasted about their physician who was a student of Athena. She mistook the two of us for being one person and took him instead." Annabeth swallowed. "I had been sleeping in an alleyway when I heard them grab him. I followed them to the forest, where an old altar lay and then she …" Annabeth shuddered, recalling that night in vivid detail. She had nightmares for days after what she witnessed. "I had never seen violence like that before and the screams … I never forgot her face. It was so cold, so cruel. From that night, I never spoke of my mother or family again."

"Luke?" Percy asked quietly.

Annabeth shook her head. "He didn't even ask," she admitted. Her heart clenched painfully.

"I'm sorry, Annabeth," Percy said sincerely. He frowned again. "You were ten years old when you left?"

"Yes."

"And you survived, by yourself, in the streets until you were what, fifteen, sixteen?"

Annabeth shrugged and nodded. "I suppose so."

"Fuck," he breathed out in awe. He leaned closer. "You are so much stronger than you know. Don't forget that." He smiled and pulled back. Annabeth felt herself warm a little at his praise. "Thanks, for telling me. I know it wasn't easy and I promise, if I see that witch, I'll cut her heart out myself. Actually, I probably won't," he added, after thinking about it. "Because that a little too intense for me. But I will kill her if she tries to hurt you."

Annabeth smiled, touched at his declaration. "Thank you, Percy. I'm going to call it a night." She felt exhausted and he nodded in understanding, rising so he could check on the horses and start his watch shift.

She dreamt of Percy that night. She had dreamt of him before but not like this. He was sitting on a small hill, surrounding by Annabeth's favourite flowers, the setting sun shining over him like an aura, a light breeze ruffling his hair. He turned and smiled when she approached, gracefully rising to his feet to embrace her. Annabeth had never felt so safe and comforted before, but she did, on that small hill with him. He pulled back, still smiling as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. He gently tilted her head back, his lips meeting hers as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

And Annabeth deepened the kiss. She ran her fingers through his hair, clinging to him tighter. She wanted this, she wanted _him_, and he responded in kind. It was when their clothes started coming off did Annabeth startle herself awake. She glanced over to his sleeping frame and blushed, hurrying to grab a change of clothes and headed to the river to wash. It wasn't that she hadn't had sex dreams before but that kiss … her lips tingled at the thought. That to Annabeth felt more like a memory than a dream …

He did kiss her. At the Festival of Lights when Arachne closed in at the time of the big final light display and everyone around them celebrated by kissing their partners or those closest to them. Annabeth had been so focused on Arachne and the aftermath of their encounter that she'd forgotten that Percy had kissed her. Recalling the kiss, his lips were soft and a little tentative when they met hers for those few seconds. She ran her fingers over her lips, blinking and snapping out of the haze. She loved Luke, not Percy. There was no way she could be developing feelings for him. No way …

She washed quickly, answering his questions as politely as she could with only one worded answers. This didn't seem to concern him but then again, she had been silent for the last few days, so he would've just assumed she was still coming to terms with everything. She opted to taking the lead, hoping that by doing so would lesser her thoughts straying to him. It didn't. Subject. She needed a subject to talk about … why was it so hard to think of something else?

"How'd you know about her?" asked Annabeth. She choked a little trying to say her name. "Arachne."

Percy thought about it as he rode, even scratching at the stubble forming on his jawline. "There used to be a daughter of Athena that joined the Elites around the same time I did. She explained who she was and that she had escaped the clutches of a vengeful woman aiming to damage her mother and wanted to develop her fighting skillset so that if she ever met her again, she could defend herself or kill her. She never uttered her name but someone else knew of a similar story. I heard she put up a pretty good fight before …" He trailed off, an apologetic expression on his face when he glanced towards her. He coughed. "Needless to say … she's not you," he added, trying to be helpful. "And, she didn't have me as her protective guard."

Annabeth snorted. "You're _my_ protective guard?"

"I did rescue you from Octavian," he pointed out.

"And how many times did I have to prevent a knife going into your back," she said rhetorically.

"Are you requesting to be my bodyguard?" Percy asked slyly, smirking.

"No! How did you get that impression?"

"Because I wouldn't say no if you were." He winked.

"I'm surprised no one has killed you out of sheer annoyance," she stated.

"I'm sure they've thought about it, but I'm just too valuable," he said humbly.

Well, she solved her issue. All Annabeth needed to do was get Percy talking and her attraction towards him vanishes in an instant. But then she would be driven insane. She had dropped back with Silver Mist, so she was walking beside Percy and snuck a glance at him. There were times when Annabeth couldn't believe that her travelling companion was the only one to return from the Cave alive, twice. He said things that were so ridiculous she had trouble taking him seriously, but then he had moments where she was glad he was beside her, facing the growing amount of obstacles in their path.

"You said the Cave uses your fear against you," she started, once they had settled down for the night. "How?"

"It's hard to explain," he replied, gazing off into the distance. "It's almost as if it gets this weird sort of read about you when you enter. It like, drudges up everything you try to suppress." He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the memories.

"Its defensive mechanism is not physical," said Annabeth, thinking it through. "It's mental."

"Whatever it is, it's unpleasant," stated Percy. "Are you sure you're prepared for it?"

She had no answer for him, and they went to sleep with that question hanging over them. Only when the time came would she know if she was ready, but at least she had gained an advantage knowing a little more about its defences. They rose early to make up some ground from their delays. The scenery around them changed into a heavy forest, with thickset and ancient trees protecting the young saplings from lumberjacks. It grew quieter as they progressed further in, the dead leaves smothering the hooves of the horses. There was something about the forest that had Annabeth checking that her knife was secure at her hip and even her spare at her boot was in place.

"Stop!" Percy commanded, startling Annabeth. "We need to give that place a wide berth," he told her once she faced him with a scowl. He gestured ahead of her.

"The quickest route is through this part of the forest," she protested.

"And the deadliest. The Gorgons live in that area."

"The Gorgons? I thought they were dead," said Annabeth. Silver Mist shook her head uneasily.

"At least one of them is still alive and hunting there. They won't venture outside their territory," he assured her, veering Blackjack to a safer part of the forest. Annabeth glanced at the section of forest Percy gestured to, shuddered and urged Silver Mist to follow Blackjack.

The Gorgons, a race that preferred to live in swamplands and dense vegetation areas, were forced from their homelands by bandits and mercenaries. Unbeknownst to those who attacked them, the Gorgons had developed a rare paralytic venom in their swamplands, turning those who touched the liquid into living statues, remaining frozen until they died. The Gorgons retaliated viciously to the attacks on their homes and rumours spread that some even began to eat their victims as they watched in horror, unable to move.

Once the Gorgons killed their hunters, they claimed a new homeland and, in doing so, turned on innocent villagers and soldiers who resided in the claimed land, perceiving it as trespassing. They never attacked outside their lands but only they knew where their boundaries lay. Clans united to control them, the battles gruesome and bloody. Eventually the Gorgon's numbers dwindled as the fighting continued and not long after they disappeared, with many believing they had died out, their venomous weapon with them.

"Do they still have the venom?" asked Annabeth, her attention drifting to the forest territory.

"Yes."

Annabeth shuddered again. "First Arachne and now Gorgons," she muttered.

"At least there's an antidote for Arachne's venom," replied Percy, eyeing off their surroundings warily.

"You believe the whispers?" asked a sceptic Annabeth.

Percy shrugged. "Athena wouldn't twiddle her thumbs all these years and not put her children into finding one. If not them, I'm sure there's a scholar that has. I've heard that the Huntresses were working on antidotes for other common venomous animals. They could've stumbled onto something."

Annabeth shook her head. "I'd rather not risk my life on whispers."

Percy's lips quirked. "I didn't think you would. Good thing we're never going to find out, aye?"

The forest, being so vast, meant that the two of them had to make camp within its trees. Percy found a secluded section with thick trees to give them some privacy, as well as enough space between them and the Gorgon's boundary line. Annabeth nestled down, jotting down her next coded letter to Luke for when they reached the next town while Percy drifted off into the forest to check the boundary line.

There was a noise. It was faint, but it had Annabeth pausing mid-word, scanning the surrounding darkness with narrowed eyes. It could've been Percy, but he usually whistled or spoke on approach to let her know it was him. There it was again, a rustle. It could've been an animal, but something had Annabeth slowly placing her book in her bag, rising to her feet. Her eyes scanned, her hand resting on her knife hilt, ready to draw and slice at the slightest movement.

A man appeared from the shadows, his smile predator-like as Annabeth drew her knife. His clothes were haphazard; a once expensive coat, simple but dirtied shirt, hunter's boots with a mercenary's weapons belt. His dark long hair was tied back by a leather band and a light layer of dirt coated his face and hands. He whistled and several more men appeared behind him. Judging by their attire, she guessed they were pirates. Annabeth's grip tightened on her knife hilt, wondering where Percy had gotten to.

"Better put that away darlin', before you hurt someone," he drawled.

The leader strolled forward, rubbing his hands together slowly, his tongue running across his lips as he took her in. The rest of his men circled her, grinning at how helpless she seemed. Judging by the laidback way they leaned against nearby trees and the loose grip on their weapons, they didn't deem her much of a threat. She wasn't feeling confident and that confidence fell further when the speaker whistled and more of his pirates came forward, dragging Percy between them.

He was ruffled but conscious, grunting in anger as he resisted their rough grip. His cheek was red and shiny, his mouth bleeding as they forced him to his knees. His eyes met hers, a silent apology in his gaze before he snarled in anger at his captives, glaring at their leader, who smirked at the defiance. The leader turned that smirk to Annabeth, moving over to Percy, brushing his hair back until he grabbed a tuft, pulling his head back and placing a knife against his throat. He looked pointedly back at Annabeth and with a clenched jaw, she stabbed hers into the ground, stepping away and half-raising her hands.

"Now we're on the same page," he said, handing his knife to one of the pirates holding Percy. "Here's how things are gonna go. We're gonna take your stuff and be on our way. You let us leave, you'll never see us again, unless we need more stuff," he added. His companions laughed.

He made his way slowly towards Annabeth, his eyes inspecting her from top to bottom, his finger dragging across his bottom lip as he leered towards her. "You're a pretty one," he told Annabeth. Percy snarled, causing the men to either laugh or smile. "Maybe I'll take you as well."

"You can choose what items of ours you want, but leave her alone," Percy proposed, grunting angrily when the knife was pressed a little deeper into his neck.

"Are you afraid she'll prefer me over you?" he jibed, glancing briefly back to Percy before returning his attention to Annabeth. He slowly made his way toward her, his gaze turning hungry. "You're a quiet one. I don't mind that. What say you?"

Silence was one of Annabeth's best weapons. She had learnt to keep her face clear of emotion and while others threatened, coaxed or outsmarted opponents with words, she remained quiet, letting them believe she was defenceless. A half dozen scenarios had gone through Annabeth's head since they had been ambushed, each one not guaranteeing a successful outcome. The leader needed to be subdued and if she could do that, she may be able to barter with the others into releasing Percy and leaving them be.

So, Annabeth waited, unmoving even though everything urged her to run as he neared, the lustful look in his eyes making her skin crawl. Percy had quieted, due in part to the knife almost piercing his skin, but his expression was dark with bridled rage. As the leader stretched out a dirtied hand to stroke Annabeth's face, she struck, headbutting him as hard as she could. He recalled, swearing but she had turned her attention towards her knife. As he recoiled, the leader kicked it away and Annabeth was left to face the closest bandits with her fists.

She lashed out at one, striking him in the nose, watering his eyes. She turned and kicked at another, spinning to attack a third but she was too slow. He grabbed her arms, pinning them to her side as two more of his companions overwhelmed her. A banshee-like scream echoed through the campsite as she struggled to get free, but she was secured within seconds. Her eyes darted around the angered faces that watched her, her body shaking in trepidation. The leader regained some composure, but he had lost his swagger. Spitting out blood, he strode towards her, livid.

"I'm gonna enjoy watchin' the fight leave your eyes," he snarled into her face, stepping back and wiping the blood from his nose. "Hold her steady boys, and I might let you have a turn."

The grip in Annabeth's arms tightened and she struggled again, though she knew it was hopeless. Her heart beating wildly in her chest, she tried to keep her fear from showing but even she couldn't help growling a little in barely concealed terror when he licked the side of her face, his breath hot and smelling of stale ale. He smirked at discomfort, and it was that smirk that had Annabeth bringing up her knee, smashing it into his groin. He yelled in frustration and pain, while one of his goon's sucker punched her in the stomach for her attack. Her breath escaped in a loud groan and she slumped a little in their hold.

Recovering from her latest attack, the leader, snarling, grabbed her by the jaw in his dirtied hand, bringing them almost nose to nose. She could see what was to happen next was for him more vindication and dominance rather than pleasure. His fingers travelled down her stomach, stopping at her belt, when a noise from the darkness had them all stopping and turning to look.

It sounded like rolling thunder, growing in sound and intensity when it approached. The leader leapt away from Annabeth with a cry of alarm. A dozen horses galloped by the campsite, ignoring the people in it completely. Some of the men on the edge of the forest had to jump out of the way before giving chase and crying out for them to stop. Annabeth caught a glimpse of the nearest horse from the light of the fire; they were terrified. She shared a look with Percy, confirming her suspicions on what spooked them.

"What's happening?" one the pirates exclaimed, nervously rotating the spear in his hand.

"Did they just run off?"

"Nah, something spooked 'em."

"What spooks a horse?"

"How are we gonna get 'em back?"

"Shut up!" the leader ordered. Gazing after the horses and then around the camp, he looked uncomfortable and at a loss on what to do next.

"This don't feel right, boss," one of the captives holding Annabeth said.

"Yeah, let's just grab their stuff and bail," another offered.

"I'm thinkin'!" the leader snapped. He looked suspiciously at Annabeth and then to Percy, trying to work out whether they contributed to the sudden flight of their horses. Tension mounted around the camp, the bandits gazing around the forest warily, wondering if a threat was coming at them from the darker reaches, as they did to Annabeth and Percy.

"Take the stuff," the leader concluded. "Whatever is out there, can take these two instead."

The bandits got to work, taking apart the camp with haste. Percy grunted as they took his bag but said nothing as they darted off into the night. Another grabbed Annabeth's knife that was kicked astray, as well as Percy's sword and their cloaks. The leader, wiping his nose again, picked up Annabeth's bag, pulling out her notebook that was sitting at the very top. Thrumming through the pages, she snapped.

"No, you can't have that!"

Annabeth gave one last effort to break free but one of her captors had grown tired of restraining her. As the leader turned towards her after her outburst, one of the other pirates stepped forward and hit the side of her temple with the butt of his sword. Annabeth lost consciousness, slumping in their grasp.


	8. Chapter 8

**As always, these characters do not belong to me.**

**Chapter Eight**

Her head was pounding. That was the first thought Annabeth had as she regained consciousness. Her eyelids felt like lead when she tried to open them, having to blink slowly several times before she was able to keep them open. It was still dark, the shadows of the trees whispering to each other softly. She moaned a little at the continual throbbing of her head, lifting a weak hand to the side of her temple. Bracing with the other hand, she went to rise but was met with resistance.

"Hey," came Percy's soft voice before he came into view. He looked bruised and weary but managed a soft smile when her eyes met his. "Just take it easy for a minute. You got hit pretty hard."

Annabeth must have been tired because she relented. She took a few deep breaths, trying to ignore the headache forming. Her stomach roiled a little. "Are you okay?" she croaked.

"A little bruised and embarrassed but I'm fine."

"Being taken by surprise happens to the best of us," she commented. Percy's lips quirked. "Where are the pirates? How much did they take?"

After a pause, he answered grimly. "They took everything."

Annabeth lifted her head a little, wanting to see for herself even though she knew Percy wouldn't lie about something so serious. The camp had been stripped bare, with only the fire dully burning behind them. It was a blow. A heavy one. What were they going to do? Without weapons, supplies and her notes, the mission was all but done. She had broken her promise. She had failed.

Maybe it was the throbbing in her head, maybe it was the knowledge that she had failed Luke or the combination of both that had Annabeth rolling over and emptying the contents of her stomach over the forest floor. Percy soothingly rubbed her back, pulling back the stray strands of her hair. Once she laid back down, he trickled some water into her mouth from a soaked piece of cloth so she could rinse her mouth.

"My book has everything," she told him, defeat and loss plain in her voice. She would've cringed at how she sounded but she didn't have the energy to care. "Everything about the Elites, my plans, the information I've gathered on the Cave, they have it all."

Percy gently wiped her face with the cloth to help soothe her. It felt nice and she felt touch by the gesture. "Your notes are safe, Annabeth," he told her, looking away.

She frowned. "What makes you think that?"

"Because the pirates, when they left, wanted the quickest way out." Percy bowed his head as Annabeth realised which direction they went. "I tried to warn them, but they laughed and went anyway."

Annabeth caught his expression. He looked conflicted. While there was some part of him satisfied that the pirates would meet their comeuppance at the hands of the Gorgons, if the rumours were true and they still had their venom, it would be a painful way to die. But that wasn't all. His whole posture was slumped in a way Annabeth had not seen before. He was, resigned, dejected, his eyes missing the twinkle of mirth that annoyed her often.

"Hey," Annabeth consoled softly. He glanced back towards her. "You tried. I wouldn't have."

Percy nodded distractedly, placing the damp cloth back on her head. Silence surrounded them as Annabeth let her headache dull, every so often meeting his eyes. He smiled a soft, reassuring smile each time, which did comfort her somewhat, but it was still missing that glint that was Percy. It had to be something deeper than their situation that had Percy troubled, but with the dull ache from the head knock, she was struggling to process her thoughts. Though there was one fact that did stick in her mind. No matter what had happened, he had stayed with her, even when most would have bailed in the middle of the night. She really was appreciating Luke's insistence she travel with him.

"Why does this keep happening?" she asked wearily, holding the damp cloth to her head.

Percy grinned wryly. A small glimpse of that twinkle. "I have a theory, but if you are truly your mother's daughter, I don't think you'll accept it."

Annabeth sighed with a frown. "You can't think the Crystal is transmitting magical wavelengths to prevent us reaching it. That's illogical."

"Okay, let's think differently. What do vultures do when they see one of their own with a carcass?"

"Vultures?" Annabeth queried with a raised eyebrow. She humoured him with a sigh. "They would swarm towards to the carcass to make sure they didn't miss out. You're comparing us to vultures?" She made sure he knew she was unimpressed with his analogy.

"Rather a vulture than the carcass it's eating," was Percy's defence. Annabeth shook her head, then winced. He watched her with some sympathy then answered with a better alternative. "Powerful objects are respectfully left alone until someone decides to try their hand. Then no tribe, bandit, or clan can risk the other getting it." It was Percy's turn to shake his head in disappointment before looking back to her. "I'm going to get to our stuff back," he stated. "I wanted to wait until you woke so I could tell you. This area should be secure now and I won't be long –."

"I'm coming with you," Annabeth interjected.

"No. Why risk both our lives? It's better –."

"No!" Annabeth cut in again. "We go together."

They were both glaring at each other, each unrelenting in their position. The stare down only lasted minutes before Annabeth made the move to sit up. Percy lunged forward to steady her when she swayed, her vision fuzzy with the abrupt movement. He sighed heavily while she blinked the stars from her eyes, knocking away his hands so she could get to her shaky feet. Feeling a little chuffed that she managed to remain standing, she gave Percy a pointed look, telling him she was ready to be on the move. He sighed again, standing beside her.

"If you see or hear any sign of movement, get close to the ground and keep your eyes down," he told her. "Gorgons think you're challenging them if you look at them directly."

With nothing but the clothes on their backs, they moved into the territory of the Gorgons. Annabeth, head still a little fuzzy from her knock, could feel her hypervigilance kicking into gear. She could smell the dankness, her ears straining to pick up any sound in the silence while the fire torch in Percy's hand omitted the only light. Shadows watched them, followed them as they trekked deeper into the forest, the undergrowth thick and at times, unpassable.

"Wouldn't the Gorgons have taken our stuff?" asked Annabeth quietly, gazing around.

Percy shook his head. "They have no need for the possessions of their victims. I heard whispers that they strip the bodies and pile up the leftovers together. An offering to their ancestors, or something like that."

They came across their first skeletons not too long afterwards. Varying in decomposition, it was a couple at first, and then a cluster the further in they went. Annabeth shuddered when a spider ran across one of the rib cages, moving a little closer to Percy. There was no telling which direction they were heading or where they had been the further they walked. With the undergrowth so thick it made tracking difficult, adding the semi-darkness they were engulfed in and every tree looking identical, Annabeth was losing some faith in her tracking skills.

Percy, however, seemed to know exactly where they needed to go. He stopped, listened or looked before changing their course, heading left, then right, his eyes alert and pale in the firelight. The smell around them began to change as they walked. The dankness hung around but there was an undercurrent of salty water, and the beginning of rotting flesh. Percy veered them more to the right and Annabeth saw just what the Gorgon's poison did to the human body.

The pirates had made it further than Annabeth expected from Percy's warnings but that didn't save them. Percy held the torch higher, highlighting the scene before them. She could see they had tried to escape, but the attack was quick and took them by surprise. Some had frozen mid-stride, others had fallen, their limbs in crippled and awkward positions, stuck that way for the rest of their shortened lives. Annabeth and Percy walked amongst them, the pirate's eyes seemingly following their progress as piece by piece, they reclaimed their stolen possessions scattered amongst them.

Annabeth had just found her book, searching its pages, sighing in relief that it was still intact when from the corner of her eye she saw Percy jump in fright. She flew across to him in a blink of an eye, ready to fight with her bare hands. The pirate leader had somehow mustered enough strength to grab him around the ankle to get his attention from his fallen position. As the light of the flames fell upon him, Annabeth's stomach lurched. His skin was grey, the veins protruding and blackened with a sickly hue. His eyes were bloodshot, his limbs shaking as they stiffened, a mixture of spit and blood dribbling from his lips as well as a darkened substance slowly running from his nostrils, earlobes and beginning to form in the corners of his eyes.

"Help," the leader rasped out, his eyes wide with desperation.

Percy crouched down beside him. There was sadness in his gaze; sadness and regret. "Once the poison enters your system, there is nothing anyone can do. I'm sorry. I tried to warn you."

The despair and fear on the leader's face had Annabeth feeling some pity. Unable to look at him any longer, she gazed around, doing a head count of the pirates. Several were missing and she doubted it was because they escaped. She stood beside one of the standing statues, recognising him as one of the goons that held her for their leader to assault her. She glared into his face but judging by his cloudy, petrified eyes, he had succumbed to the poison. She happened to lower her gaze, noticing he was missing his weapons belt. She gazed around the other pirates, them too, without weapon belts or their holsters empty.

"Some of our stuff is missing," stated Annabeth with a frown. "Our weapons, coin, theirs as well. I know for a fact that this guy had two thick banded rings on his fingers and they're missing too. Are Gorgons partial to shiny things?"

"Not that I'm aware of," he replied, still crouched beside the fading leader. "They're not fond of outsiders. This must be what I heard. They don't take possessions, just the weapons and valuable items of their victims as the offering."

"That doesn't help us," said Annabeth, trying to pick up a track. "We're going to have to keep searching. We can't leave here without weapons."

Percy nodded, giving the leader one last glance before rising to his feet. Again, Annabeth questioned why he was so deeply affected by the situation and almost growled in frustration when she couldn't find the answer. He and Annabeth followed a crudely made trail, more victims of the Gorgon's wrath strewed out around them. Strands of light were sparse, but there was some light, meaning morning was starting to break through. She had just glanced towards her left when several things happened at once.

She heard Percy breathe in sharply, sounding in pain. Annabeth turned at the noise, only to be slammed in the side where he was and dragged to the ground. She grunted from the impact, a small squeak escaping her lips at the blindside attack as she hit the ground heavily. A hand reached across her mouth, her body pulled against another warm body and braced behind a fallen trunk. Annabeth tried to glare at Percy but couldn't twist around to face him when a loud, high-pitched growl echoed from ahead, making them both jump. Before she could work out what type of animal it was, the cry came again, louder than the first. Annabeth sucked in a breath, hunkering down against the trunk as Percy dowsed his torch, realising it wasn't an animal, but a Gorgon.

As much as Annabeth was curious about the appearance of a Gorgon, she heeded Percy's advice and kept low, her gaze down in front of her instead of craning a look over her shoulder and the trunk. Though she did take Percy's hand from her mouth. The howls had ceased but it was clear from the sounds that something was coming towards them. They weren't footsteps, not exactly, but they had to be. There was a discernible step, but something also sounded like slithering over the ground. They had to be dragging something, Annabeth deduced, but the sound wasn't altogether right. Her heart started to pound.

"So many new friends," a voice said. It was hard to tell whether it was a male or female that belonged to the voice. It was raspy and soft, with a hiss at the end of their words. The sound chilled Annabeth's blood. "They will look lovely in my gardens. Wonder if there are anymore. Smelt like the sea, they did. I miss the sea."

They waited a little longer to be sure the Gorgon had left before rising to their feet. Percy glanced back to the trail, only relaxing when he was sure they were alone once again. His eyes drifted to Annabeth, silently trailing down her body, as if to reassure himself that she was still there with him and unscathed. He took a deep breath, exhaled and then gestured they continued to find their remaining possessions. Annabeth frowned, confused by his actions but didn't want to risk the Gorgon overhearing her questionings if they chose to return.

Percy paused, his silhouette in the limited light not giving Annabeth much to read. He hadn't bothered to re-light his torch and she wasn't about to ask him to do so, considering their recent encounter. He twisted his head back and forth, lifting his chin in the process before following whatever path he had visualised.

"How do you know where to go?" asked Annabeth in a hushed whisper.

"The smell," replied Percy. Annabeth tripped on a stray twig at the revelation, noting along with her surprise how flat Percy sounded. "A traveller that got stuck in here for about a month mentioned the distinguishing, _aromas,_ the Gorgons had. He was adamant he would be able to re-enter, exact revenge and escape without them noticing. He wasn't seen after that."

Silence fell after Percy's tale, it's ending boldened by the few skeletons strayed on their path. Annabeth looked into the gaping eye sockets of one skull to the cracked temple of its companion, wondering if one of them had been the traveller Percy met. There was a stark difference, not just in smell but in the environment as well, Annabeth had already noted those distinguishes but she hadn't considered using that as a directory tool. She made a mental note to never get struck on the head again. She hated having dulled senses.

"I wasn't willing to test his theory unless I had no choice," continued Percy. "But I suppose it has some merits."

While they had only stumbled across the one Gorgon, given the stories of their hatred of other humans, she couldn't see why anyone would willingly enter their territory again. Her eyes fell on Percy's back as she thought this, realising she was travelling with someone who had done exactly that. She had finally worked it out. How he knew where their boundary line was, how he knew what lay in store for them if they entered and why he had tried to warn the pirates. She found herself offering a smile to his back, then wiping it from her face and looking away in slight confusion. It was lucky she tore her gaze away, otherwise she would've missed the glimmer to their left.

"Look," breathed Annabeth, pointing to the glimmer.

She pushed past Percy and moved towards it, her mouth dropping as a small armoury came into view. Swords, lances, spears, daggers, knives, broadswords, bows and quivers were thrown on top of various styles of armour and shields. From leather to polished steel, even silver and gold breastplates and helmets shone dully amongst the pile, all taken from their owners and discarded. Scattered amongst the weapons and armour were coins of a couple of currencies.

Annabeth eyed the coins like a thief, the weapons even more so. She walked towards the pile in a trance, already figuring out how much she could carry and how that would weigh her down and the amount of noise she would make with her full pockets. She spotted her knife on the ground closest to them, snatching it up with a happy sigh. Percy, also noticing his sword, grabbed it, fastening it to his belt.

"We should hurry," he urged, his eyes scanning the surroundings intently. "You find the rest of our stuff and I'll keep watch. If you hear a whistle, find somewhere to hide."

Glancing briefly at the retreating Percy, Annabeth noticed him placing a bracing hand to his temple, his expression one of pain. Frowning, she couldn't recall him being struck. Vowing to ask him about it later, she went to work on finding their belongings. They were easy enough to find being the latest addition. Slipping her smaller knife into her boot, she focused on the pile in front of her before swivelling her head back in the direction Percy left. Coming to a decision, she delved into the pile with barely restrained excitement.

"Here," said Annabeth sometime later to Percy. He raised an eyebrow as he accepted the bundle she thrust towards him, eyeing the bundle she carried curiously. "I'm tired of being ambushed and defenceless," she explained, when he pulled a bracer free to inspect.

When Annabeth had left on her mission, she was aiming for stealth, thereby leaving her Elite armour in her room. After the tumultuous last few weeks travelling with Percy and the small armoury sitting there with no intentions of being used again, how could Annabeth pass on the opportunity. While her selected armour wasn't as flashy or as strong as her Elite one, it was comfortable and would give her the protection she needed if they were going to be continually attacked.

"Probably long overdue," agreed Percy. He gazed down at the armour in his hands, his expression hard to read. Hesitant would be the best way Annabeth could describe it, but why? Did he not trust her?

"Are you okay?"

Rearranging the armour to carry easier, he looked over and gave a lopsided grin. "I'm in deadly Gorgon territory with a woman who may or may not be trying to undress me and disguising it by offering a new outfit, so, of course I am," he answered, getting a hard stare in response. Grin widening at the predicted reaction, he gestured ahead with the dowsed torch. "I think the boundary line is not far that way. We can work our way back to the track."

In a seemingly rather short distance, they had indeed reached the end of the Gorgon's territory. While there was no definitive sign announcing the end of the Gorgon's hunting area, Annabeth could hear the songs of birds in the trees once again, the scents of the forest also returning to her sense of smell instead of death and decay. She couldn't help the sigh that passed her lips when the cool, fresh air kissed her face. Percy also visibly relaxed and they quickened their pace to put more distance between them and the line.

They stopped once they reached a small stream, both foregoing formalities and taking big handfuls of water to drink and wash away the lingering dirt of the Gorgon's. Sitting on the bank, Annabeth's eyes drifted towards the where they had come from, a frown forming as she thought about the proximity of the discarded weapons to the edge of their territory. It was a treasure trove and if Annabeth hadn't been half afraid of the Gorgon's return, she could've sorted through the pile more thoroughly. If it was indeed an offering, why was it so far from their homes? And so close that passers-by could see it and if greedy enough, take what they want. Ah …

"Clever," commented Annabeth, glancing at the invisible boundary line when she realised their tactic. She explained her theory to Percy. "I would've thought they would have one or two of them stationed there to ambush the passers-by."

"They probably would have when they had the numbers, but I wouldn't be surprised if the one that passed us was the last Gorgon left," replied Percy with a quick look back. "Speaking of, let's move a bit further along. As handsome as I would look as a statue, I would rather not become one."


	9. Chapter 9

**As always, these characters do not belong to me.**

**Chapter Nine**

They kept moving through the forest until the morning sun coated the tops of the trees in a warm glow, the light snaking down the trunks and making patches on the ground. Percy discarded his used torch, leaving it standing by the stream. Annabeth, spotting an edible weed growing by the water, hastily grabbed a few leaves to chew, giving her something to take her mind off her headache while she unfurled her armour bundle. Taking a quick look back to Percy, she headed a bit further ahead for some cover, having a few minutes to herself to outfit her acquired armour.

The dark leather chest piece she chose was a tighter fit than she was used to, but it was light and flexible, seamlessly contouring to her movements. It wasn't flashy with intricate designs or trimmings of gold or metal, but practical, which Annabeth preferred. The shoulder pieces were slight but curved and secured comfortably on her biceps without chafing nor did they have that annoying section that would constantly dig into the skin. Having opted for a sleeveless undershirt, it was important her range of motion wasn't impeded by irritation.

The bracers she selected weren't from the same armoured outfit, being a little flashier. Still leather, the left bracer was thick and layered, giving more protection to her forearms which was handy for a knife wielder. These were decorated with stitched-in symbol-like designs, the outlined stitching inlayed with dark fur, a wolf's maybe, but she wasn't entirely sure. While the left was heavily designed for protection, the right, whilst still a protective layer, was made to allow her to wield her knife with light and swift movements. It was a simple one-piece leather with a smaller but similar design as its twin at its base, minus the fur.

With her armour fitted, Annabeth turned her attention to securing her new weapons. A curved silver dagger, beautifully balanced with strands of leather woven into the handle, nestled against the small of her back, its belt overlapping her other knife belt. She added two smaller knives to the sides of her boots, before sliding her trusted knife into its sheath at her hip, feeling its familiar weight. She walked back and forth, testing her strides and flexibility with her new attire. Grabbing her bag, she headed back to Percy, stopping midstride when she saw him in his armour.

He cut a striking figure, especially when he turned upon hearing her footsteps. The armour she had selected for him was made of a thick black material covered with small, overlapping metal pieces. It looked like scales; light but very durable. The shoulder plates were rectangular and protruded more than Annabeth's, but they suited the armour well. The right side was identical in design to the chest piece with the left solid metal, a bear's snarling face dented on its centre. The chest armour was long-sleeved, but the sleeves were hidden underneath his silver braces. Three arrowhead styled silver plates overlapped and stitched together on leather to cover his forearms and tied with laces underneath. Annabeth was slightly envious that it wasn't in her size.

Recovering before he could notice the effect his appearance had on her, Annabeth strode to him, feeling more confident with the weight of armour on her shoulders. They walked on through the forest, Percy assuring her he would call for Blackjack once they put a bit more distance between them and the Gorgon's territory. She would have to train with her new armour, get accustomed to it before their next fight, which, considering their luck, would be inevitable. It had been too long without proper training and she would hate to become sloppy, but training would mean that Percy had to participate.

Fortunately for the travellers, Percy didn't need to call out for his equine friend. Blackjack and Silver Mist, along with another three horses stood hesitantly under a shaded clump by a rock formation, their heads tossing restlessly. Blackjack whinnied when he saw his owner, moving towards him without preamble. After a joyous cry, Percy met his horse, murmuring to him quietly as he placed his forehead against the horse. Silver Mist moved tentatively to Annabeth, her trembling lessening as her neck was stroked reassuringly by her rider, who was just as relieved. The three other horses kept their distance, until Percy's calming voice and expert touch had them more than willing to accept two new owners.

Having saddle bags of their own, Annabeth and Percy sorted through the contents of their new mounts, discarding what they didn't need and evenly dividing them and their belongings amongst the three extra mounts. The forest floor being too unpredictable, they walked the horses to the forest edge, changing mounts often under Percy's insistence so the new horses got used to their new riders. Armoured, armed and with enough supplies to get them almost in range of the Cave without having to stop, they set off in better condition than before they were ambushed.

Maybe it was the relief of escaping the clutches of the Gorgon, or the light shining on her face, but Annabeth didn't feel the need to snap at Percy for his ridiculous shanty he had either made up or heard from a very drunk sailor once they could put their horses to work. They made up for lost time and then some over the next couple of days, thanks mainly to the extra mounts. Though it also meant Percy spent a lot more of their down time checking the horses over, leaving Annabeth to train alone.

Only removing her bracers and shoulder pieces to sleep, Annabeth let her body grow accustomed to the weight of her new armour. The brown and white speckled mare had a bow and quiver tied to her saddle, so Annabeth hunted, managing to take down a buck after several attempts and a few broken arrows. Between grabbing the firewood, hunting and preparing their meals, she trained. Afterwards and in-between training, she stretched, assessing the flexibility of her chest piece before turning her attentions to her agility and her defence and attack manoeuvres. She was practising her strikes against a hearty trunk when Percy found her.

"Why didn't you ask?" he called out to her, amusement coating his expression. He had his arms folded over his chest. He too, wore his armour even when they stopped for the night, though he removed it to sleep. Annabeth found herself making more excuses to keep an eye on him as they rode, slightly jealous of how he looked riding in his armour.

She paused, facing him. "You seemed busy," she replied.

"If you're afraid to fight me, I understand," he said, striding forward. He drew his sword, holding it casually at his side. "It's only natural."

Annabeth shook her head, moving to stand opposite him. "First you think I'm volunteering to be your protective guard and suddenly I'm afraid to fight you." She raised an eyebrow. "Your mouth is going to get you into a hole you won't be able to climb out of."

Percy's grin was mischievous, his eyes alight with excitement as he moved into a casual fighter's stance. "Only one way to find out."

They circled each other, Annabeth's eyes roving over his body to find any weakness she could exploit. The first few strikes from both parties were experimental, each testing the limits of the other, warming up muscles and waking the training embedded deep into their subconscious. The first mark went to Annabeth, followed closely by the second and third. Percy, his grin fading a little in way of concentration, stepped back, breathing slightly heavier.

"Bit rusty?" Annabeth queried innocently, adjusting the grip on her knife.

"I've enjoyed a more, hands on approach to fighting," he answered, the glint in his eyes returning. "And there's been the occasional wrestle…"

"I'm sure you were just as terrible at that as you are here," responded Annabeth.

"Could it be that Annabeth, fierce Elite warrior, just made a joke?" Percy pretended to look shocked.

Annabeth gave him a tight-lipped smile, and then a volley of attacks he struggled to deflect. His smile vanished as he concentrated fully, a frown creasing his brow. The longer their sparring match went on, the more he began to retain his skillset. Then it was Annabeth having to backpedal and adjust, taking riskier manoeuvres just to remain on her feet. As he began to take marks, Annabeth got another glimpse of the Elite fighter he had been those years ago.

Their weapons were a blur as they clashed again and again, their attacks and counterattacks blocked repeatedly. Each unable to get past the other, each unwilling to yield. Annabeth kicked Percy away to give herself a few seconds to breath. With her arms and legs fatiguing, she could produce probably one last attacking ploy before exhaustion would make her sloppy. She charged in close, deftly darting in and out, waiting for the moment … and there!

Percy lashed out, Annabeth easily blocking it, using the momentum to spin away. Once in position, she would be poised at his back and force him into a submissive position. She brought her knife around, ready for the victory but then he moved, quicker than she expected, following her as if he had predicted her course of attack. His sword sliced along with him, kissing Annabeth's neck at the same moment she placed the tip of her knife against his chest piece, right over his heart. They froze, locked in a stalemate.

"How are we going to decide this?" asked Percy after a few seconds, his chest heaving.

"You could yield," suggested Annabeth.

Another smirk. He moved closer to her, letting the tip of her knife dig in further into his armour. "So could you," he breathed, capturing her gaze.

He shouldn't be attractive. Not when sweat dripped from the tips of hair that wasn't plastered to his flushed face. Not when half of the words that left his mouth was rubbish and annoyed her so. But Annabeth was, in that moment, very attracted to him. Her eyes, when not mesmerised by his, gazed down to his lips, her breaths shortening. There was a bright tinge to his green irises that made Annabeth want to lean in closer, the sword at her throat be damned. She was beginning to wonder how soft his lips would feel, when somehow, she snapped herself out of it.

"Draw then?" she concluded, a little breathless.

Percy nodded in agreeance, letting the cold steel drop from Annabeth's neck. "And she's conceding a draw. Do I need to check that you aren't still concussed from that head blow?"

Not granting his sarcasm with an answer, Annabeth rolled her eyes and returned to the horses. Despite their exhausting sparring session, there was a lift in their spirits, their evening meal even tasting that little bit more flavoursome. They struck out early, their horses eagerly setting a quick pace. Slowing to a walk to eat around midday, Percy was a little ahead of her, glancing back often with a smile on his face. Annabeth, feeling a little flushed at the constant attention, was about to say something snappish when they were ambushed, again.

This time, however, when the loud cry came from around them, Annabeth was ready. Her knife was in her hand, her horse turned so she could face them head on. The closest man came at her with a shovel, swinging as wildly as his cries. Annabeth dodged the first swing, glaring first in confusion and then annoyance. When he swung again, Annabeth dropped the reins in her left hand, grabbing the handle of the shovel. The man was too shocked to keep his grip on the makeshift weapon, Annabeth easily yanking it free, twisting it around and knocking him out with the spade. Sheathing her knife and turning, she took out a second assailant with a hard swing who attempted to steal one of her spare horses.

Annabeth circled her horses like a protective mother, raising the shovel threateningly at the next couple who tried. Silver Mist reared when they tried to attack her head on, almost throwing Annabeth from her back but it was effective against the bandits. They fled, which sent her mood from annoyed to irate. She turned, seeing Percy taking on, and overpowering, more of them. He moved seamlessly with Blackjack, twisting, darting, kicking against their opponents. Seeing as hers left, Annabeth slipped from her saddle, spinning the shovel in her hands as she walked determinedly towards the fray. She knocked down two before the others had noticed her.

The rest of the bandits scrambled in earnest. Percy stared after them, but Annabeth was focused on one she had struck from behind, trying to drag himself away. She walked up to him, her head tilting to the side as she took in his attire, mostly the straw wide brimmed hat that had fallen from his head. The clothes were worn, but there was some care to them, not like a bandit's usual haphazard assortment. She flipped him onto his back with the end of the shovel, his eyes wide with fright, his hands shaking as he held them in front of his chest.

"Is that a shovel?" queried Percy, coming up beside her with the horses in tow.

"One of his friends lent it to me," answered Annabeth, nodding to the man. "It achieved the same results as my knife would."

"Less bloodshed though."

"Didn't think that was necessary."

She could feel his eyes one her after her statement and tried very hard to ignore it. She narrowed her eyes at the petrified man, slipping into her Elite interrogative mode.

"Are you going to start talking?" she demanded. "Or do I have to persuade you to?" She twirled the shovel for emphasis. "I'm more partial to violent persuasion. Gets to the point across quicker."

"P-P-Please …" he stammered out, half-raising unto one of his arms.

"You forget who attacked who here," she stated. "Seems rather stupid for a group of men to attack two armoured travellers with shovels and pitchforks."

"Annabeth," chided Percy.

She scowled towards him, before rolling her eyes at his own scowl, facing the man again. "All I want to know is why, and then, depending on your answer, I'll decide your how much your life is worth."

"No! Stop!" came a shrill voice.

Annabeth swivelled, half-raising the shovel but letting it drop when she saw a woman and who she assumed was her daughter come racing towards them. She stood protectively in front of the man, the girl a little more tentatively at her side. The man protested and found his feet, trying to push her aside but she wasn't budging.

"They didn't mean any harm," the woman stated. Annabeth raised a sceptical eyebrow. "We're just desperate!"

Slowly, from the nearby trees, a number of men, women and children made their way towards the road. Two dozen or so villagers huddled together several feet from Percy, Annabeth and the family, watching with a veiled sense of fear and despair about them. Percy took in the people impassively, unlike Annabeth who eyed the newcomers suspiciously, letting them see her as a threat they dare not try to attack again. All that met her was the same dirtied and frightened look, which softened her resolve, though she tried to not let it show.

"Explain," Percy said to the man. It was a demand, but one with little force.

"Bandits took over our town, to the east of here," the man said shakily. "It was one or two at first and then they just kept coming. They overpowered our town guards, started taking everything for themselves. We're farmers, not fighters."

"That's obvious," muttered Annabeth. Percy glared at her to be quiet.

"We became slaves in our own homes," the farmer continued, not hearing Annabeth. "We sent for help, but it never came. We fled a few days ago and then we saw you with all of your belongings and we just … as my wife said, we were desperate."

"Will you help us get to safety?" the wife asked hopefully. "We can pay you."

"Wearing armour and carrying weapons doesn't mean we're mercenaries," Annabeth told them, crossing her arms over her chest.

"But you have fighting capabilities," the farmer insisted. Annabeth snorted.

"We're not heading in the direction you're going," said Percy sympathetically before Annabeth could say anything else demeaning. "And we're late as it is for an engagement."

Annabeth stared at Percy as the little hope the family had vanished. It was in Percy's very make-up to aid those who needed it. He continued to watch them impassively, even as Annabeth's stoic outside began to crumble. It was hard to see a family struggle, but Percy was right; they were way behind in retrieving the Crystal and detouring to help townspeople find new lodgings would only delay them further. Judging by their attire, Annabeth didn't think the reward would have been worth it for any mercenaries to come to their aid and her stomach sunk a little for them. They had done the right thing and fled, but with their inexperience with travel, she knew if they were set upon, they would be killed or enslaved.

"But," continued Percy. He glanced to Annabeth quickly and she could see he had the same train of thought. "We have supplies. More than we need. We can give them to you, as long as you don't attack us again," he added dryly.

Annabeth said nothing, letting her stare say all she was thinking as the family gushed and thanked him for his generosity. He waved away their gratitude, heading towards the pack horses to divvy it up while the townsfolk hurried forward to get their spoils. She sighed, throwing the shovel to the ground. She knew it was the right thing to do but it annoyed her that it had to fall on them to do it. She grabbed Silver Mist and moved her and her belongings away before they were snatched. She watched, clenching her jaw and breathing in deeply through her nose as Percy handed over the reins for two of the spare horses, along with the packs of spare food, clothes and blankets they held.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed the wife break away from huddled group, smiling softly as her laughing daughter was hoisted up onto the horse backwards by Percy. The other children ran over to have their turn, the expression on their parent's faces now more cautious hope than dejectedness. Annabeth gritted her teeth when she saw the wife make a beeline towards her, Silver Mist shaking her head restlessly sensing her owner's irritation. She ignored the approach of the wife, hoping it would deter her, instead glaring at Percy as he accepted the gratitude of the villagers with a soft smile.

"Thank you," said the wife gratefully, standing beside Annabeth.

"Don't," Annabeth told her. She returned her gaze before watching Percy help the farmers add their supplies to the packs on the horses, speaking quietly with them. She hoped he was giving them advice to survive the journey. "This was not my choice."

"You spared my husband, after he attacked you," the wife continued. "I assume that was your choice?"

"Somewhat," she murmured, thinking back to a previous conversation between her and Percy.

"Because of that my daughter still has a father, even if he can make horrible decisions," she added with a smile. Annabeth snorted. "Because of your compassion, we are together and despite having to leave our home, we have a chance to find somewhere new. It may not be entirely of your choosing, but we are here due to you. Even though you don't think you deserve it, I will thank you for your help."

The mother smiled at Annabeth, turning back to her daughter when she called out. With another warm smile, the woman turned to leave. Annabeth watched the mother, thinking over what she said, before glancing towards the villagers, who were beginning to leave. She took in their clothes, their dirtied faces and the small bit of hope Percy had given them with the few donated gifts.

She stared at the mother, already growling inwardly at herself for what she was about to do. "Wait," she said, heading towards Silver Mist. The mother watched her curiously, taking the pouch from Annabeth's outstretched hand hesitantly. "You'll need these too."

Luke would've called it weakness, would've scoffed and stated her priorities were wrong. But another would've said she should've done it sooner. The mother held the pouch delicately, eyes widening in disbelief when she opened the pouch to see its contents. She gazed up at Annabeth in wonder. "How did you come by these?"

"Stole them from a Gorgon," answered Annabeth. She suppressed a sigh before having to elaborate when the mother grew confused. "The coins aren't wanted so you will be safe to use them. Consider them a gift. Find your new home and live in peace."

Annabeth flinched and froze in shock when the mother hugged her. Tears were in the woman's eyes when she pulled away and smiled at Annabeth. The smile she gave in return was probably not as genuine as it should be, but Annabeth was still in shock from being hugged that it was all she could manage. The mother held the pouch protectively as she re-joined her family and the other townsfolk, the small congregation leaving soon after. Annabeth watched her until she passed Percy, giving him a gentle pat on his arm. But he wasn't looking at them, he was staring at Annabeth. She averted her eyes, embarrassed but a little pleased, realising he had seen her give the mother the extra coin.

Percy was still looking at her when she walked over to join him, Blackjack and their last remaining spare horse standing idly at his side.

"Before you scold me," said Annabeth, busying herself with adjusting her bracer. "I kept them as a last resort fund. In case we had to bribe a guard, mercenary … you know the drill. It wasn't the entire fund, so we still have some there..." She trailed off, realising she was rambling. She snuck a glance at Percy.

Percy was smiling at her, but this was a different smile to one she had seen. There was something else in that smile. Admiration? No, that wasn't it. He seemed … touched, that she had gone to so much trouble to ignore her instinct to kill her attackers, and then to give a stranger coin from her own pouch which he knew wouldn't have been her first choice to either. Affection. That's what his smile was! Oh … Annabeth tried to focus on Silver Mist as her face heated.

"I'd rather not get caught in another ridiculous skirmish like that again so I think we should –."

Annabeth had known that Percy had moved to her horse, having kept track of him from the corner of her eye. He walked towards her with some sort of purpose, but she felt too shy to see why. He was only a foot or so away and she expected him to stop, but he didn't, not until he was standing beside her. His hands went around her waist and his head bowed and then Annabeth was cut off mid-sentence by his lips.

He kissed her! He had kissed her and not because of a distraction or a tradition. Annabeth was so shocked that she just stood there, letting him hold and kiss her. It was longer than the kiss they shared at the Festival of Lights but not excessively so. Percy pulled away, his hands still around her waist as he stared into her eyes. She stared right back, her lips tingling. When she didn't move or say anything, Percy placed a light touch to her cheek, his eyes softening with a small smile touching his lips … and then Annabeth promptly punched him in the nose.


	10. Chapter 10

**As always, these characters do not belong to me.**

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

Percy recoiled from the punch with a gasp of pain and surprise, his feet stumbling on a stray stone. He fell heavily to the ground, his hands reaching for his nose instead of breaking his fall.

"What was that for?" he asked, his voice obscured from his hand clutching his nose.

"Why'd you kiss me?" she demanded, not answering his question.

"I don't know," he replied sarcastically. "Why does one kiss someone else?" He grunted in pain again, pulling his hand away to see if there was any blood. "I think you nearly broke my nose," he accused.

"Well you should ask someone before you just assault them like that," she said angrily.

Percy choked out a laugh. "Oh, now I assaulted you?" He shook his head, getting to his feet. "I'm sorry, I obviously read this wrong."

He turned his back and walked to Blackjack, hopping up into the saddle in one fluid movement. He grabbed the reins of their spare horse, clicking softly to get them walking. He didn't look back to check if she was following, and she couldn't blame him. Annabeth stared after him, wholly embarrassed for her actions, before copying his movements, her and Silver Mist trailing after them.

Why did she punch him? Because she panicked. Because she desperately wanted to return his kiss and that scared her. She hadn't planned for this, for these feelings to seep in and settle inside of her, growing with every day she spent with her black haired, green eyed companion. Her eyes moved to watch his back, at his striking profile, averting her gaze when she felt the yearning grow. She tried to think of Luke, of the years pining over him, but that just didn't feel real any longer.

Annabeth was troubled, the turmoil that was her feelings threatening to overwhelm her as they continued along the road. She should say something to him. Explain why she reacted to strangely to his kiss but the longer they rode, the less confident she was. Was it pride that kept her lips closed? Yes, she supposed it was. Her pride had caused her many problems, but it was who she was, and she wasn't about to change that; especially not for some boy that she had a crush on, and that was all it was ... wasn't it?

The afternoon sun was slowly setting, a plain set out before them as they slowed their horses to a walk. Two riders started to come over the hill ahead of them, pausing in their travels. A challenge cry echoed across the field from the rider on the left. They brandished a spear in the air, calling out again. Annabeth drew her knife in resignation, but Percy reached across and placed a steady hand on hers. She looked at him, her stomach lurching a little at the contact.

"There's no need for that," he said with a quirk of his lips. He quickly removed his hand from hers. Annabeth tried not to read into it too much. "It's just how she says hello."

"She?" queried Annabeth as she clicked Silver Mist to follow Percy.

The two approaching riders paused a few feet away from them, dropping down from their horses to approach. The left rider … well, Annabeth almost did a double take. The challenger, a woman, towered over Annabeth, with her mousy brown hair cut haphazardly. The longer, stringy bits were pulled very messily away from her face with a thick leather band. She had ripped the sleeves from her shirt, revealing her thick muscled arms. A spear rested proudly at her side, it's blade long and elegantly crafted with strands of different materials at its hilt. Annabeth noted the Arenian custom.

The companion, a man, had a friendly smile, with wavy black hair and warm brown eyes. He was armoured with a simple leather breastplate and bracers, unlike his Arenian companion whose armour shone brightly in the dimming afternoon sun. He was also armed with a spear, but his was strapped at his back. It too, was elegant but where hers boasted, his was simple in design.

"Geez, you're slow," the woman complained to Percy. Her voice was a rough grumble. "We've been waiting for three days!"

"It's only been a day and Clarisse has spent it the majority of it in the tavern," her companion interjected. He grasped Percy's arm with a friendly smile, introducing himself to Annabeth as Chris before turning back to Percy. "She was insistent we meet with you after we got the message."

"We aren't missing out on the fun like we did last time," Clarisse declared, scowling at Percy. "If you take that little angry kid and his weakling archer over me again, I'll gut you."

Percy sighed. It appeared he'd had this argument before, multiple times. "I didn't take Nico and Will, I just met up with them and I don't plan on taking anyone else with me this time."

Clarisse's eyes narrowed, her mouth opening to reply but her partner cut her off. "We understand," he said, meeting Clarisse's quelling stare with a calm one. She huffed and glanced away. "How about we head back to the town and get something to eat, drink and rest. You guys look like you need it," he added, observing them.

"So, this is the Elite who thinks she can steal the Crystal," stated Clarisse. Her eyes roamed over Annabeth, sizing her up. Annabeth glared at her, a smirk on her lips almost daring this Arenian to try and challenge her. Clarisse smiled in response. "I think I'm going to like you, girl. Let's go and get a drink and you can tell me how you managed to get stuck with that soft lump over there," she said, gesturing to Percy, who rolled his eyes.

The town sat just on the other side of the hill and soon Annabeth was being supplied with tankard after tankard in the closest tavern. One, Chris supplied dryly, that Clarisse was yet to be banned from, though she was on her last chance. Clarisse ignored him, insisting that if Annabeth wasn't going to answer any of her questions about her task, then she should at least describe her best fights and the scars that went with them. Annabeth glanced towards Percy, who sat silently across from her with an amused smile on his face, hidden behind his own tankard. Arenians were all the same, she thought with a slight shake of her head.

As the night settled in and dinner was served, Clarisse and Percy drifted off towards a game of dice with the same mischievous grin playing on their lips, leaving Annabeth sitting with Chris, who watched his partner with an exasperated worried expression.

"Percy didn't mention us, did he?" asked Chris.

Annabeth, a little buzzed from the several tankards she had drunk in rapid succession, took a minute before she realised Chris was talking to her. "We haven't exactly had heart-to-heart conversations," admitted Annabeth. "I haven't encouraged it, if I'm honest."

"All business, right?" guessed Chris. "I can assume that's due to Luke's insistence? He never could find a lighter side."

"You knew Luke?"

"We grew up together. There was so much expectation placed on him, even at a young age," Chris told her. "He was constantly told he could do better, _be_ better, even when he had given everything. I may not have had a great childhood, but I never envied his."

Annabeth fell silent, staring into her cup. She had never known that about Luke, but it gave light to his decision-making. She moved her gaze to Chris, who drank deeply. She could see a shadow pass across his face, demons trying to surface with his memories. There was a twitch to his fingers, a muscle flickering against his jaw as he contained his emotions. Just as Annabeth went to ask if he was okay, he took another drink and breath, erasing whatever haunts came to light.

"I have to say," Chris began, trying to lighten the mood. "It's great to finally have a fellow mead drinker amongst the ranks. I can't tell you how insufferable having to constantly consume ale is. I mean, Pollux will brew pretty much anything but will always try to get you to have wine. Is Castor still with the Elites?"

"Died, last autumn," said Annabeth, surprised that Chris knew him.

Annabeth hadn't known him all that well and didn't rank him highly because of his drinking habits and less than stellar fighting record. She hadn't gone to his funeral, but she had been told that death happened often to those who had not trained hard enough and they didn't deserve tears or grief. She had lived by those words being Luke's, but she her mind jumped to the family they had met on the road, of the other villagers escaping to find a new way of life and began to wonder whether she could live by something else.

"Shame," said Chris, toasting his cup skyward, oblivious to her inner thoughts. "I would've like to have seen what those two could've brewed at the village."

"What's it like at your village?" she asked curiously.

"Like a big, riotous family," he answered with a warm smile. "We sort of came together when we were all looking for a peaceful place to call home. A couple of people wandered in at first and since then we've had others that trickled in from all over. We've been able to build a foundation and just add to it whenever someone else decides to settle down. It helped that Percy was a mercenary beforehand, and he met a lot of them in his travels and sent word. That's how Pollux came to us and the Stolls, Silena, Piper, Leo. Others, like Clarisse and me, and Percy's Rachel, found it by chance."

Annabeth's fingers slipped a little on her cup. She felt like she was going to be sick. Why did this bother her? Chris specifically said Rachel was 'Percy's' and it wasn't as though she hadn't already met one of the women he had previously been with. But the way Chris had said her name, and the casual way he coupled them together ... If they were in a relationship, then why did he kiss her? Percy strode over, taking a seat next to Chris and Annabeth tried to appear nonchalant, finishing the contents of her tankard.

"Where's Clarisse?" Chris asked, oblivious to what he had sparked in Annabeth.

"Said something about 'raising the stakes'," replied Percy, eyeing the two of them with a frown as he took a drink.

Chris looked resigned. "Excuse me," he said, weaving his way back to where Percy had come from.

"Raising the stakes?" queried Annabeth, trying to push aside her emotions.

"It's Arenian for, 'this is boring, I am going to make it interesting'," answered Percy with a wry grin. "Everything okay? You look pale."

Annabeth glanced passed him, her eyes falling on Chris. He shoulders hunched, his agitation causing a hand to run through his hair as he searched for Clarisse. She thought of his reaction when Luke's name was mentioned and decided to focus on that instead of the other topic her heart yearned for her to voice.

"The further I go, the more I realise how little I know about Luke," she admitted quietly after a pause. "It never used to bother me, because I had my own secrets but …"

Percy's look was one of understanding. He drummed his fingers on his cup. "Luke runs on a need-to-know basis. Chris is the perfect example of that."

"What happened to him? He never said, but I could tell it was something significant."

"He went mad," said Percy grimly. "Tried to help Luke but went into the situation blind and came out crazed. The Arenians captured him, used him for sport until Clarisse put a stop to it." He smiled a little at the thought. "For such a little imagination, she was one of the only ones who saw through Chris' mad antics. She saw a human in pain and decided to do something about it, even if was against the wishes of her people. She helped him escape her tribe, found a healer: who is a wine maker if you can believe it? And they've stayed together since."

Annabeth's eyes narrowed, hearing the double meaning. "I'm not going in blind," she stated flatly.

"I never said you were," he replied lightly but his eyes hardened.

Annabeth scoffed. "You're not as clever as you think you are."

"I could say the same about you," he countered.

Annabeth bristled, taking a deep breath. Settling some of her aggression, she argued, "you have your friends here, and I'm assuming it's because you're expected to return to your precious village. I have all that I need to finish my task. I think it's time we went our separate ways."

Percy's jaw clenched. "Is that what you want?"

The honest answer to his question wasn't one she wanted to voice or admit to herself. She couldn't look at him, but she could feel his piercing glare directed at her. She hadn't meant to start an argument, her jealousy the main instigator. Annabeth hadn't cared when she met Reyna, hadn't really put much thought into the other women Percy had been with but maybe her jealous self had a point. Maybe if she put some distance between the two of them, it would dissipate these rising conflicting feelings.

Percy exhaled loudly, causing Annabeth to face him. She could see him regaining some of his composure, as she had done moments before. "We've had a bit to drink," he conceded. "We should pick this conversation up in the morn –."

"Who's Rachel?" Annabeth blurted out. She froze, realising what she said.

Percy blinked. "Rachel? Wha – Chris," he muttered. He frowned towards Chris' vacant chair before sighing. "Rachel was my partner. Gee must be about a year ago now that she left," he remarked in surprise. "I had always seen her around. When I was a mercenary, she would always just appear in the towns I was passing through. I knew it was her because of her bright red hair. We would never talk but she seemed to watch me. Every time I went to speak with her, she would disappear and eventually I used to just smile at her from afar.

"I had forgotten about her once we started building our village but then, one day she walked in. Straight down the road," he chuckled at the memory. "And then she was just there. In my life, at my side. She was always cryptic, saying things that didn't always make sense at the time, but there was something about her that I trusted."

"What did she say?" Annabeth prompted.

Percy grinned. "Her and I together was only temporary. We would be happy but there was someone else out there I would love more than her, more than anyone else; if things went the way they were supposed to," he added with a disbelieving snort.

"What things are supposed to happen?"

Percy shrugged. "No idea. I told you, she was very cryptic."

"Was she a seer?"

Annabeth had heard rumours of seers but had never encountered one. She was rather sceptic of those who claimed to receive visions, often proclaiming they were sent to ensure all preordained events happened according to some grand scheme. Annabeth often referred to it as 'far-fetched lunacy'.

Percy shrugged again. "Some of the things she said couldn't make sense with any other explanation. Despite that, we were pretty happy for a while until one day she announced that she had to leave. It was time, she said. She needed to fulfil her duty and, then just, left. She had warned me, but it still stung. It was never dull with Rach, and I enjoyed the time I had with her."

"You never went after her?"

"I wanted to," he admitted. "But I knew she wouldn't have wanted me to. So, I respected her wishes and let her go. I keep an ear out for people mentioning her, or at least her description so I know she's at least alive and well. Last I heard she was somewhere south of here, probably around the time you found me at the fighting pit. Why did you want to know about Rachel?"

"Oh …"

Annabeth's infallible brain was failing her. She scrambled for an answer, a convincing one, but she was wilting under the pressure of his gaze. He looked at first expectant, then confused, then as he slowly went through the options in his mind, a little stunned. His eyes widened, a smile slowly spreading across his wondrous expression as he came to an answer she could only assumed was the right one. Annabeth felt her face heat, her heart beat a little faster in embarrassment. His mouth opened when a crash came from the other side of the room. The two of them lurched to their feet after hearing Clarisse's bellowing challenge.

"Not good," Percy stated.

Percy and Annabeth joined the fray as Chris was thrown towards them, landing on a bench and crashing to the ground. He was scolding Clarisse as he leapt to his feet, grabbing plates and cups and smashing them against anyone that charged at him. Annabeth had always thought herself as a classy fighter with finesse and composure, so it surprised her to realise that she enjoyed their tavern brawl. She leapt up onto a table to avoid a wild swing, dancing along the tabletops kicking cups and plates to distract the fighters. She had copped a few more hits than she normally would, and she blamed her slight drunken state.

Annabeth was still atop on one of the tables when the brawl ended. She glanced around at the destruction, taking in deep breaths. Percy was far too her left, an upended table between him and three unconscious men. Chris was to her immediate right, though he was on the floor, wiping at a bloody nose as he gazed exasperatingly at Clarisse. Annabeth wasn't sure how Clarisse ended up on the other side of the tavern, but she could only assume giving the groaning bodies in her wake and her light chuckles that it was eventful.

"I should've started drinking with you earlier, soft lump," Clarisse guffawed at Percy, gazing around at the destruction with satisfaction.

"Um, how is this any of my doing?" Percy demanded.

"That guy, no wait, _that_ one," she pointed to one of the unconscious men. "Thought you had stolen his coins when you left the table."

"Why?" he demanded.

"Cause I told him you did," she answered with a laugh. She walked over to the man she pointed out, standing over him with satisfaction. "Truthfully, he was just a woeful dice player. You make for a good scapegoat. Much better than Chris."

She lifted her head and grinned at Percy across the room. At the same time, the man at Clarisse's feet sprung up. She recoiled in surprise as Chris shouted her name, but the man drove a steak knife into her shoulder. Percy was the quickest to react, throwing a jug towards them. Clarisse caught it in her right hand, driving it hard into the man's head and sending him crashing to the ground with the shards of the jug. Silence fell, the three of them gazing wide eyed at Clarisse, who stood frozen with the knife protruding from her shoulder.

She glanced down at it in surprise, then back to them with the same dumbstruck expression, then back to the knife. "Not again," she complained loudly.

* * *

The events in the tavern had consequently caused the owner and the remaining conscious guards to remove the four of them from the establishment. Clarisse wasn't fazed by the eviction, merely pulling the knife from her shoulder, tossing it onto a table and telling the owner that he would want her back eventually. The four of them moved out into the street, Chris fussing over Clarisse's injury, who despite complaining about him mothering her, let him inspect the wound as they walked.

Annabeth took deep breaths of the cool night air, trying to sober up. She snuck a glance at Percy, who had lifted his head to the stars, his eyes closed, smiling serenely. Feeling her gaze, he turned to her, but his expression was clouded in shadows, making it too difficult to read. She averted her eyes, staring out at the night life of the town instead, hoping she wasn't blushing. The minutes before the tavern brawl was still weighing very heavily on her mind.

Clarisse declared loudly of a tavern at the opposite end of the town that would grant them entry, in between her argument with Chris about bandaging her shoulder. Percy, surprised that any tavern still permitted her entry, was given a brief explanation that the owner had a soft spot for Arenians, Chris admitting that despite the fact he would have to purchase new furniture after every Arenian guest, they more than made up for it in the consumption of ale. Percy laughed, seemingly back to his lighter self.

While the other three headed into the already full tavern and towards the bar, Annabeth diverted up the stairs to the overlooking balcony she had spotted, ignoring the sleeping drunkard at the corner. She leant her elbows against the rail, the breeze kissing her face. Sulking wasn't her style, but she needed some space. The bar fight had been a distraction, but she couldn't just fight everyone when her feelings were too wired. She rubbed her eyes. This task had turned out so much more complicated than she could imagine.

Sighing and pulling her hands away, she wondered how she was going to tell Percy she couldn't start a relationship with him. It was a crush, she assured herself, trying to convince herself so that she may be able to do the same for him. He was giving her attention, and Luke never did and that was it. If Luke gave her the same attention, she would choose him … she was pretty sure she would, okay, sort of sure, maybe she would … Annabeth shook her head and growled in frustration. This was not how an Elite fighter should be thinking. The Crystal, she needed to get that, relationships be damned.

Someone whistled from below, and out of habit, Annabeth glanced towards the sound. She straightened, her attention snagged as the whistler smirked at her, deliberately moving towards the shadows, glancing back as she disappeared. Annabeth was halfway down the stairs in her next breath, pushing past people to the door, striding towards the shadows with her cloak swishing behind her. Pausing briefly once darkness engulfed her, she let her eyes adjust, setting off towards a dim light on the other side of the buildings.

She didn't have to travel far to find her whistler. They stood in a ring around their leader, their faces shadowed by the hood of their cloaks, only revealing their faces when Annabeth came into view. Not that she needed the dramatics; she knew who they were just by catching sight of their cloaks. Annabeth suppressed her growl of indignation but let the whistler know exactly what she felt of her being in the village. The woman, Drew, with her perfectly styled hair, manicured hands and painted face, smiled sweetly; it was a shame that sweetness never reached her personality.

"Elite's finest fighter," crooned Drew. "Always a pleasure to be in your presence, or so I've heard."

"What are you doing here?" Annabeth asked in a hard voice.

"Luke sent us," Drew said happily. "He's grown impatient with your progress. We're here to help."

"I don't need any assistance," she stated flatly.

Drew's smile widened, as if she was expecting her answer. "From where I'm standing, you're beyond our help." Drew chuckled as she took in Annabeth's appearance. "Seriously, what kind of second grade armour are you wearing?"

"Tell Luke I will retrieve the Crystal in the coming days, and I will do so, _alone_."

Drew's laugh echoed around them, even some of her companions smirked or guffawed at Annabeth's request. "We're not going anywhere," Drew stated. "It's about time someone else stood at Luke's side. I mean, I share his bed, why not his rule?"

Annabeth clenched her jaw, hating the knowing smile playing on Drew's lips. Annabeth had always suspected Drew knew Annabeth's feelings towards their leader; if the snide comments and pointed glances were any indication. Annabeth had never liked her, not since her arrival with the Elites and sleeping with Luke didn't make it better. Drew was expecting her to bite, or fight, but Annabeth would do neither.

"Goodbye Drew," said Annabeth, turning around to leave.

"Before you run inside," Drew called out. Annabeth paused but didn't turn around. "You should know we were given an extra order."

Annabeth, taking a deep breath, turned back around. "What order?" she asked, taking the bait.

"Luke wasn't convinced with your excuses," began Drew, casually moving around her group. "He believes your alliances have changed." Annabeth tried to keep her face blank. "So, to make sure that doesn't stick, we're to kill your boy toy."

"Luke urged me to find him!" spat Annabeth. Her shock coating the venom of her voice.

"He deeply regrets that. I think he used the term, 'blinded', totally can see why he is a babe," she added. Annabeth's nostrils flared at the comment, more than her other comment about Luke's bed buddy. "Anyway, I thought I would give you a choice, just to sweeten it. We can either kill him, _or_," she said dramatically. "We will kill everyone in this pathetic little town."

"You can't massacre an entire town!" said Annabeth aghast.

"Of course we can. After all, we're doing this for the greater good." Drew stopped walking when she was a foot or so away from Annabeth, her guard not too far behind her. "Luke said we are to achieve our orders by any means necessary. Hurry up and choose, we haven't got all night."

Annabeth felt sick. Had she really thought like them? Thought that killing innocent townspeople could be justified by a few words? She was set up. Choose the villagers and she would be branded a traitor, but her heart stuttered at the thought of Percy's name leaving her lips. She looked at each of the Elites, her brothers and sisters and then to Drew, whose dark piercing eyes looked expectant. There had to be another option, and Annabeth just needed a few minutes to figure it out. With a deep breath, and hoping she would be given that time, she gave her answer.


	11. Chapter 11

**Reader warning: Violence. **

**As always, these characters do not belong to me.**

**Chapter Eleven**

Footsteps approached Annabeth from behind, and she closed her eyes, hating the fact that she knew it was Percy just by the way he moved. She turned to face him, stomach churning because of the way he smiled at her. There was still time.

"Percy," she greeted in a flat voice.

"Hey, uh, I saw you leave and I just, uh, wanted to see if you're alright?" He sounded a little breathless, nervous but excited.

"I'm fine Percy," she assured him quietly, unable to look at him.

"Okay, okay, good," he said smiling again. "Look, I uh, I want to say something –."

"Now's not a good time," she cut across quietly.

He placed his hands up placatingly. "Please just let me, uh, get this out … Uh, listen, it may be the ale I've drunk but could you, uh … do you, um … cause I, um …"

He stumbled over his words and Annabeth hated how she hung to those 'ums' and 'uhs'. She closed her eyes, before gazing at his expectant and hopeful look. He read the pain in her expression, his eyes crinkling in concern thinking something he had said caused it, when in fact, it was entirely her. He went to ask when the swish of clothes alerted him to another presence. He turned his attention towards the movement, taking in Drew and the Elites. His eyes went to Annabeth, silently demanding an explanation but all Annabeth did was step backwards, standing next to her brothers and sisters.

"Oh Percy," Drew crooned. "I've missed seeing your handsomely packaged figure."

He eyed Annabeth for a few seconds longer before answering. "Drew," he greeted in a neutral tone. "I see you haven't changed."

"Why would I change perfection?"

"We have different definitions of that word."

Her smile was a little colder after his statement, her eyes flickering briefly to Annabeth before she composed herself. "We were just talking about you," she informed him.

"I can only imagine what you said," said Percy, keeping his voice light despite the insult.

"Oh, it's Annabeth here who's done all the talking," she declared cheerfully. "Would you like to know what she said?"

Percy pretended to consider her question before shrugging. "Not particularly, no." Annabeth suppressed her grin.

Drew lost patience. Her smile vanished, replaced by a snarl. "You think you're so amusing," she said scathingly.

"And you think you're threatening," said Percy, losing his happy pretence also.

"You've been sentenced to die, by _her_," she stated, pointing a clawed finger at Annabeth.  
"So, joke's on you."

Drew snapped her fingers and the fighters moved tightly around her. Annabeth watched, her heart beating fiercely as Paige, Drew's right-hand woman, drew her blade, moving towards Percy. He made no move to draw his weapon, gazing at Paige calmly and then settling his eyes on Annabeth. There was no anger, no accusation in those green irises. She couldn't look at him, keeping her eyes downcast as Paige stalked forward. She had her part to play, after all.

Unbeknownst to her brothers and sisters, Annabeth had made a third choice. It wasn't hard, not when she took a deep breath and cleared her mind from her shock. While Drew made the arrangements to kill Percy after Annabeth's answer, she all-but ignored her, giving ample time to ensure a plan would outmanoeuvre them all. Her plan had a catch, a cost that would mean she was stepping over a line, breaking an oath she long held dear and it scared her how willing she was to cross it if it meant Percy would live.

So, Annabeth waited, watching from the corner of her eye as Paige moved. The Elite was hesitant, unused to the lack of defence but after a quick glance back and a reassuring nod from her captain, she surged forward, prompting Annabeth to do the same. In a blink of an eye she was standing in front of Percy, her knife in hand after pushing aside the thrusting sword directed at his heart, sending Paige stumbling aside as the steel clashed loudly.

Drew's eyes narrowed as she took in Annabeth's protective position in front of Percy. The Elites behind her gasped quietly or shifted uneasily in their surprise. "You made a choice," Drew stated in a hard voice. "Kill him or the villagers."

"I chose him, but I didn't say I would stand by and let you kill him," she stated, adjusting her stance readying for the assault.

"I knew you secretly wanted to be my bodyguard," Percy murmured in her ear. Annabeth wished he took their situation more seriously.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," said Drew with a dramatic sigh. "Oh, Annabeth. Luke's going to be so disappointed when hears of your new allegiance." She drew her sword, the others behind her doing the same. She had an air of casualty, but Annabeth could see behind the façade as she gazed into her hard stare. "And you can be sure he'll get every detail about this. Detain Annabeth," she ordered her fighters. "Kill her along with the deserter if you have to."

"Wait," said Annabeth. They obeyed, causing Drew's eyes to narrow a fraction. She looked to each of them, some she recognised but most she hadn't seen before. Luke had been recruiting in her absence, and it was there that she focused her persuasion.

She put away her knife, her hands up placatingly. "Please listen to me. This isn't necessary. Killing, isn't necessary." Drew scoffed and some of the Elites she knew, Paige, Katarina, shook their heads. "I'm one of you. I am tasked with retrieving the Crystal for Luke and nothing will come between me and my task. Not even those seeking power or credit," she added, her gaze on Drew, who smirked behind the fire in her eyes. "But threatening innocent lives? I won't agree to that. Surely you see that isn't who we are. I don't want to fight you, but I will defend them if I have to."

There was a brief silence and Annabeth could see some of the newer Elites looked hesitant but then Drew laughed, a high pitch bellow of a laugh that grated on Annabeth's ears.

"Oh, this is just priceless," she chortled. "Who would've thought Annabeth could be, soft? I thought your pride would prevent such a feat. They won't be swayed by your teary pleading. We have our orders."

"Yes, but are they Luke's, or are they yours?"

Annabeth could see the truth in the way she flinched at the accusation. It was subtle but Annabeth had been watching her for years and noted her tells and ticks. Drew didn't like being caught out, and her expression was one of pure venom.

"You have your orders," she barked. "See it done."

"Ah, see! I told you we weren't late, Chris."

Clarisse and Chris moved into the light of the torches, weapons already in hand. Clarisse glanced at the situation, her eyes alight with the prospect of a proper fight. The fighters around Drew tightened their hands on their weapons, not accounting for the extra numbers. Even Drew looked a little less sure, but she held her composure as only Drew could.

"You didn't think you could fight without an Arenian joining in?" Clarisse queried before clicking her tongue in disappointment. "That was just poor planning."

"Shut it, you filthy Arenian," spat Drew. "This doesn't concern you."

Clarisse blinked at the insult, staring indignantly at Chris, whose cautioned look only fuelled her outrage. Her expression turned pleading, then angered when Chris shook his head. He was right in staying her hand. If they started this fight, the Elite would have reason to use any force they deem is appropriate to eliminate the threat, which was in most cases was death.

"Careful Drew," warned Percy, standing beside Annabeth. "I don't care if you insult me, but if you insult Clarisse again, there will be consequences."

Drew laughed derisively. "You're in no position to say such things, coward."

Clarisse gave another pointed look to Chris, her eyes widening and gesturing towards the group. Again, Chris shook his head, his own expression stern when she appeared to silently argue. She glared at the Elites accusingly.

"I'm not ashamed of my choices," said Percy. "Only a petty person would hold another's choices against them."

Drew, after a look of outrage at being called 'petty', sent her Elites into the skirmish. Annabeth drew her knife and parried the first strike, blocking another and spinning to face a third head on. Percy engaged with two while Clarisse and Chris, Clarisse yelling a deafening war cry as she surged forward, fought together against another two. Drew stayed back and surveyed the fight, her glare fixed on Percy.

Annabeth circled with her opponents, knowing this wasn't going to be like any other fight she had fought before. Bandits were loose cannons with slight skill, cultists only with mad fanaticism on their side and soldiers, while being the strongest of the three, were nothing compared to trained Elites. The Elites Annabeth recognised squared off against Percy while the recruits faced Annabeth. Her three opponents were young, lively, but she could tell they were inexperienced, giving her a slight edge.

"There's still time," reasoned Annabeth as they circled. "Don't make me hurt you." Her words fell on deaf ears as they engaged.

Her attacks were sporadic, sticking mainly to defensive manoeuvres as her opponents charged, trying to overwhelm her with sheer force. Annabeth weaved between the three, her cloak fanning out around her as she spun, ducking back to avoid a strike, moving in close and kicking away one, turning to block the arching sword aimed at her back, sliding her knife down the blade, elbowing the owner, then swivelling away to engage with the third.

They had not expected her skill. Had not expected their attacks to be constantly blocked again and again, with only a couple managing to hit their intended target but even then, only striking armour. Annabeth, for all the hits she landed, she was hesitant to land a killing blow. She knew it was irrational and knew that if she didn't attack with the intent to kill, she was handicapping her fighting, but they were kids, misconstrued in what they were doing and who they were fighting.

Her hesitancy cost her, just as she was afraid it would. Annabeth had driven them back, had them confused and desperately trying to remain on their feet and away from her knife. She had disarmed one, knocking him aside and to the ground. He clutched his side as blood dripped from his mouth. She faced the next recruit, re-positioning the knife in her hand so its blade was adjacent to her forearm, driving one punch, two punches into her face, its force doubled by her grip on the handle. Annabeth reared from a swing having to step back to keep her balance. Unbeknownst to her, she stepped into the swinging arc of the Elite she had knocked down. Annabeth, realised the threat too late. A cry of pain left her lips as his hidden knife ran across her right leg, leaving a trail of fire and stinging pain in its wake.

Annabeth parried the next strike and skirted away, backtracking as they advanced on her, their confidence and energy rising. She dimly heard Percy shout her name, but she could only focus on ignoring her pain and keeping her attention on the Elites. She was still alive, still moving. She was not defeated yet and she had no intention of submitting. She held her own for the next attacks, blocking and dodging but her leg flared in pain with each sidestep. If her heavy pants and wheezes of pain were any indication, she knew, as her opponents did, that she couldn't keep it up for much longer.

Her injury was sapping her remaining energy and she was tiring quickly. She darted away, getting just enough of a glimpse at the melee to see they were losing ground. Percy fought furiously with his two, attempting to get the upper hand but they held him back. Clarisse and Chris were holding their own against their opponents but had been pushed further away to be of any help. It was then that something switched for her. Seeing the three of them struggle, because of the choices she made. She couldn't let them fall because she was hesitant. She was no longer worried about preserving the lives of her brothers and sisters. She was Annabeth the Elite, the determined, the ruthless. If they had to die so she and the others could live, so be it.

She faced her opponents again, one last ploy she had yet to execute. They moved in and Annabeth stood her ground, waiting for her moment. She copped a gash to her arm and grunted, spinning and parrying the next strike. She punched the closest one in the jaw, sending her reeling, swivelling to engage the second, getting in close to push him away to get space. She dropped to her knee as the third closed in for the killing blow to her back, spinning and as she did so, grabbed the knife at her back in her left hand. She brought the knife up, slicing it under the blow and then upwards as she rose back to her feet. The Elite froze in shock, clutching at her throat as blood poured between her fingers. She fell to her knees, her eyes wide as she met Annabeth's hardened gaze before falling to the ground.

The fights ceased at the fall of the first casualty, all in shock at what happened. Only Annabeth remained outwardly composed, readied in her stance to face her other opponents, her right arm and knife up, almost kissing the side of her face while her left hand held her new dagger protectively in front. Inside, she felt as though she was falling apart. She kept all her weight off her right leg, which continued to throb in pain. She could feel the blood trickle down her leg, but she couldn't inspect it, not when there was still a threat in front of her.

A line had been crossed. Annabeth had crossed that line when she had killed the Elite; one of her kin. There would be consequences for her actions if word got back to Luke. Why couldn't they have just listened to her? Why couldn't she have been more than her training, been able to restrain from making the killing blow. She was a killer, that was who she was, and Drew knew that. Though she had paled initially; a sort of deep resolution had settled on Drew's face as her eyes rose from the girl face down on the ground.

"This has been a surprise," Drew's voice was soft and cold. "Tend to your injuries, as we tend to our fallen. Enjoy the time you have left with each other." She looked dangerous. And triumphant. Annabeth could see the gleam in her eyes as she moved forward to collect the Elite. She had wanted Annabeth to kill them and deal with the fallout.

Annabeth never took her eyes off her opponents as one by one they sheathed their weapons, the recruits carrying the body of their fallen comrade. They moved to Drew, then disappeared into the shadows. Drew was the last to leave, her eyes piercing as she glared at Annabeth before darkness engulfed her. It was only after she was sure they had left that Annabeth's leg gave way and she fell. She was whimpering through her short breaths, stowing away her weapons and clutching her leg. Percy was there seconds after she fell, crouched at her side with Chris and Clarisse on his heels.

"Annabeth let me see," he instructed gently, his hands hovering over her wound.

"I'm sorry," she burst out. She needed him to hear her reason for sentencing him to die. She needed him to know she didn't want it. "I didn't want to choose you, but they didn't give me a choice and I knew that I could protect you easier than an entire town and –."

"Shh, shh it's okay," he cut across her ramblings. "I'm not angry, Annabeth. I understand why you did what you did. Just let me have a look." She moved her hand to the side so he could inspect it. "Dammit, there isn't enough light," cursed Percy. "We need to find you a physician."

"We need to be ready for when she comes back," said Annabeth. "Just find me a bandage or something." She grunted as she shifted her leg into what she hoped was more comfortable position. It wasn't. "I can fight through the pain," she hissed through gritted teeth.

"I'm sure you could," Percy humoured her. "But you won't be doing much fighting if you pass out from blood loss."

Annabeth closed her eyes, knowing he was right. The throbbing in her leg was getting slowly worse and making it hard to concentrate. While she calmed her breaths, focusing on that as her adrenaline ebbed, she dimly registered the three of them making plans to follow the Elites, gage what they were about to come up against and work out a strategy. She kept a steady hand on her wound, clenching it as tightly as she could, her blood still trickling through her fingers.

The next few minutes were a bit of a blur for Annabeth. She recalled getting helped to her feet by Percy, her angered growl breaking the silence around them. Their journey to the physician was slow and laboured but one minute she was rounding the back of the buildings into the light and noise of the tavern and then she was hugging the doorway of the physician's for support, Percy moving into the darkened room calling out to see if anyone was home. He had yelled moments earlier, she registered late, demanding the whereabouts of the physician from a drunkard who had stumbled onto their path.

"If they're here, then they must be upstairs," Percy informed her, coming back into view.

He had grabbed a lantern from somewhere, placing it on a hook to give them some light. He grabbed her around the waist, leading her towards the centre of the room where the worktable sat. She leapt up onto the table edge with a small grunt after removing her cloak, taking a few deep breaths with the fresh wave of pain as her legs dangled over. Annabeth glanced down at her gash, giving she had light to inspect it, while Percy searched the bench and cupboards opposite her for supplies with another lantern.

The gash ran diagonally across her right thigh. It didn't appear to be too deep, which was only a slight relief as it was still bleeding heavily. Annabeth clamped both hands on it, squeezing the skin together in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding. She panted a little, wiggling out the numbness in her toes just as Percy returned, pressing a bandage against her wound.

"This is all I could find," he apologised. "There's herbs and tinctures there but I don't understand the labels."

"This will be fine," she assured him, giving him a small smile, easing the crease of concern on his face. She glanced back down at her wound, sighing a little.

"It could've been worse," said Percy softly, reading her thoughts. Was she that transparent? Drew did it earlier, now Percy. She hoped she wasn't.

"I forgot how cumbersome injuries were," she admitted. "Maybe you could add nurse to your repertoire?" she added with a grin.

Percy reluctantly smiled, his eyes finding hers. "I'll keep it in mind," he told her.

They stayed in silence while Percy continued to put pressure on Annabeth's wound. She tried not to look at him, but she couldn't help herself; not when he was so close. His focus was on her wound, on keeping her still, but could he feel her gaze? As she had felt his so often. She wanted to reach out and touch him, run her fingers through his hair and trace those lips … whoa, she must've lost more blood than she had thought and gone delirious. She gripped the edge of the table after feeling her fingers twitch. She gave her head a little shake just as Percy tilted his head, his face illuminated by the lantern and Annabeth started.

"Wait, what's that?" she asked, reaching out and touching his cheek near his ear.

He moved his head from her reach, smiling assuredly at her. "It's nothing. I just got clipped."

"Let me see," she said, trying to turn his head but he darted away again.

"It's fine, Annabeth, really."

"Let me see," she insisted.

She was more forceful when she reached for his face a third time and he relented, letting her inspect his face. There was a cut near his hairline above his ear, but it didn't look too deep. Both of his cheeks were red from being struck, the left looking as though one more hit would cause the skin to split. Another small cut was at the end of his eyebrow, causing one of his eyes to begin to bruise but he fared alright considering their skirmish.

"It doesn't look too bad," she informed him. "But you should probably get it cleaned."

"Alright," he replied. His voice was a little huskier than usual, but Annabeth just assumed it was because he was a little out of breath from the fight and practically carrying her to the house.

"You're lucky. I've seen Katarina fight before. She's a knife wielder like me but she likes to slash, essentially playing with her enemy until they've got so many cuts that they can no longer fight. She's always been a bit sadistic like that and …"

Annabeth broke off, her voice hitching. While she had been talking, she realised she had been gently caressing Percy's face, her fingers tracing light circles on his cheeks, his jaw, his neck. She had thought she had pulled her hands away once she assured herself his injuries weren't serious but obviously her body hadn't forgotten her thoughts from before. It was the reason why Percy's voice sounded different, breathless; his whole body was frozen under her touch.

She was suddenly very conscious of their position against each other. She had stopped breathing, her fingers stilling against his cheeks. She could feel his gaze on her face; a gaze she met hesitantly and then was ensnared within. Her heart was beating wildly under her armour, her pain a distant memory the longer she stared into Percy's eyes. He bought a hand slowly up to the side of her face. His touch was gentle, careful, like she was a young foal he didn't want to scare away. When she didn't push him away or flinch from his touch, he took it as an encouragement. He leant in a fraction closer, swallowing thickly.

"Please, don't hit me again," he murmured, his breath gently brushing her cheeks. He didn't have the chance to lean in further because Annabeth closed the distance, pressing her lips against his.

It was better than her dream kiss. It was better than the surprise kiss he had given her. The first kiss was tentative, mixed with a hint of adrenaline. The second one was a bit more settled, the two of them exploring the new sensation of kissing each other, and then their attraction for each other came through. It felt as though a burst of energy surged through Annabeth from the touch of his lips, and oh boy, she wanted more.

Her hands were in his hair, trailing down and along his jaw so she could tilt his head to give her better access to his lips. His hands … well, through her haze of their frantic kisses, she could very much feel where his hands were. Even through her clothes and armour, her body tingled at the contact. While he had started caressing her cheeks, his fingers moved down past her neck and shoulders, settling at her waist and hips, tracing the contours of her body.

She deepened their kiss, or maybe he did, it didn't matter because it was exactly what Annabeth wanted, needed. Looking back, she could excuse her actions as a result of adrenaline, of the shock of her injury but she knew it was only part of her reason for kissing Percy. For that moment in the darkened room, she needed him closer. She pulled him toward her and he willingly obliged, never breaking their kiss. He did, however, bump her right leg and the flare of pain was too much to ignore.

Annabeth gasped in pain, her body flinching and recoiling. She was still holding Percy's head in her hands, their foreheads touching but the lustful haze that had clouded her thoughts cleared. They shared an embarrassed smile, Annabeth's face heating as she steadied her breaths and her racing heart. Percy also looked flushed, but he made no move to leave her, instead pulling away enough to brush a stray lock from her face, his lips lifting into a tender smile, his eyes bright. She almost kissed him again when a deliberate cough came from behind them in the next room.

Percy moved to stand protectively in front of her, his sword half-raised before they saw the woman by a set of stairs was no threat to either of them. Annabeth relaxed, setting aside her knife, her face growing hotter guessing what the woman must have seen but, her leg flared in pain again, almost in agitation that Annabeth had forgotten about it once already.

"I can only assume your broke into my house for a good reason?" the woman said, adding a questioning tone at the end of her statement. If her leg wasn't throbbing, Annabeth would've felt more embarrassed. "Or do I need to put it down to lust?"

"If you could help us, we would be grateful," said Percy, not an ounce of embarrassment in his voice. "She's been injured."

The woman looked at the two of them thoughtfully, before nodding. "See to a fire," she told Percy, gesturing to the wall beside the stairs.

The physician walked forward, settling into a business-like state as Percy heeded her command. The middle-aged woman tied back her long brown hair, washing her hands at a small basin. She moved towards Annabeth, gently inspecting the wound. She had a kind looking face, with wrinkles around her eyes that suggested she smiled often. Her fingers were thin and nimble, as she moved her assessment from Annabeth's leg to her arm. There was a small curse but then light flared beside them as Percy got a small fire burning.

"Your wounds are shallow, but you will need to keep your movements minimal," she instructed.

"I can't do that," Annabeth argued. "I will need to fight when they come back."

The physician stilled, making Annabeth's suspicions flare. "If that is the case, then I will need to cauterize that leg wound," she replied briskly. The woman headed over to the fireplace, placing a steel rod over the flames. She turned back to Annabeth, Percy hovering at her side. "Your armour took the brunt of your other injury, so I'll only need to wash that one out. If you don't mind the sting. You as well," she added to Percy, gesturing to his face.

While the woman worked, mixing herbs and water into tinctures, Annabeth watched her carefully, taking note of the stiffness in her movements, the tension in the set of her shoulders. She kept eyeing Percy as he paced restlessly beside the table, the grip on her knife tightening if he got too close. Annabeth glanced towards the stairs and then up to the roof. She would've heard the two of them, Percy's loud queries. She could've easily seen the two of them from the top of the stairs and yet, she waited until they were distracted with each other to descend.

"You should go and check on Chris and Clarisse," Annabeth told Percy quietly after he had taken a tincture for his injuries.

"They'll find us," said Percy stubbornly.

"I'm not going anywhere," she assured him. Her eyes met his, silently urging him to listen to her. "And that steel rod is going to take a while to heat up. We should be prepared."

"Alright," he said hesitantly after a moment. He looked quickly to the physician then back to her. "I won't be long," he added and then, before Annabeth could blink, he kissed her on the forehead, taking off swiftly through the door.

Annabeth stared after him, jumping when the physician started cleaning her arm. She watched as the physician worked, admiring the care and swiftness in which the woman executed her craft.

"I don't know your name," said Annabeth before introducing herself.

"Clara," the woman said, giving her a generic smile.

Annabeth returned the smile as Clara moved towards her work bench. "You have a lovely place," she complimented, watching her carefully. "I bet you have a good view from upstairs."

Clara paused in crushing herbs in a mortar, confirming Annabeth's suspicions. Her hand rested on the handle of her knife when she noticed Clara's gaze towards her small work knife. Her fingers slipped away when Clara turned without the knife, her eyes glazed with tears and fear.

"I have a daughter," she told Annabeth, a slight wobble in her voice.

"I won't let anything happen to her," Annabeth promised. "Or anyone here."

"I heard your speech to those Elites," she replied, turning back to her tincture.

"You don't believe me?" Annabeth queried after hearing her tone.

"I believe you're at a disadvantage."

"We'll see."

Annabeth was handed a cup of a mixture that tasted bland, but the pain lessened in her leg in a matter of minutes. With a bit of shuffling, Annabeth removed her belt and pants, aggravating the wound and leaving her sitting in her undershorts, which she only had to push up. Clara gave her some words of encouragement, hearing her snarls of pain as she checked the rod. Percy returned minutes later, shaking some water from his hair after cleaning his face.

"Well?" asked Annabeth as he moved to her side.

"Clarisse hadn't reported back yet," he answered, his eyes inspecting, averting them quickly when he saw the bare skin of her legs. Annabeth tried not to smile.

"Should Chris check on her?"

"Nah, she knows what she's doing. Everything okay here?" he added quietly.

"Yes, just needed to clear something up."

Percy frowned but said nothing more as Clara came over, her expression a little grave. Annabeth was instructed to sit back on the table, making her legs flat against the wood. With a shake of her head from her next query, Annabeth remained sitting, accepting the leather bit given to her by Clara. Percy gently shifted her position so she could lean back against him, his arms wrapping around her to hold her steady. More bracing than loving, Annabeth could feel the heat of his body on her back as she placed the bit in her mouth, closing her eyes and bracing as the steel hit her skin, the wound sizzling as it was sealed closed.

Even with her teeth clenched, she couldn't stop the scream that wheezed between the bit and her lips. Clara gave her a minute before inspecting the wound, covering it with some sort of tincture before wrapping it tightly in a new bandage. Percy didn't appear in any rush to let her go, still holding her to his chest, those his grip had loosened. Annabeth found herself leaning more heavily against him as the pain subsided and it was only the arrival of Chris and Clarisse that she sat up on her own, pushing away his arms.

"Percy, we should prepare," said Clarisse urgently before spotting Clara. "Hey, I remember you! You have excellent stitch work."

"I'm surprised you do," replied Clara with an amused smile. "You were quite inebriated at the time."

"Inebriated? Nah, I was just drunk. It was a good party," she added with a chuckle.

Clara looked to Chris to see if she should correct her, but he shook his head with a sigh. Annabeth and Percy shared a smile, before she looked away, a little embarrassed at how her heart raced at the thought of his lips. The three of them gave her some pace so she could get dressed, glancing towards Clara as she fixed her belt into place.

"Thank you," she said.

"Thank me by keeping your word," answered Clara.

With a nod, Annabeth left, limping to Percy who waited for her in the doorway, knowing deep down that it probably wasn't going to be the last time she met this physician.


	12. Chapter 12

**Reader warning: Violence. **

**As always, these characters do not belong to me.**

**Chapter Twelve**

"We're heavily outnumbered," was Clarisse's way of starting the conversation.

"They've got bandits with them," explained Chris, taking a small knife and crouching on the street to draw a rough layout in the dirt. "Judging by the way they're forming, they'll attack us with half the bandits where we first met them," he marked it with an 'X'. "And then once we're preoccupied, overwhelm us with a secondary force coming up from behind."

"Basic ambush," Percy summarised. He looked at the drawing thoughtfully. "Could've been the plan from the start."

"Yes, but what they didn't count on was the extra swords," said Annabeth. "We need to stop that ambush."

"I don't think we should separate," Chris disagreed. "That'll make both parties too vulnerable."

"Not if we can keep the building at our back," said Annabeth, pointing to the line indicating the wall. "Their main goal is Percy, so if he and I are stationed there, all of the attack will be directed at us."

"Narrow the attack options and we theoretically could hold them off long enough for the two of you to disband the ambush and join us," said Percy.

"That'll be their strongest force," said Clarisse, expressing her doubt. "I mean, you two are skilled but those Elites are just as skilled and blondie here is injured. They would have trained expecting a fight back."

"We don't have much of a choice," said Annabeth, glancing quickly at Percy who nodded. "Besides, it comes down to whether you can stop that force and join us before we get too overwhelmed."

"We can get there," Clarisse vowed.

Chris took a bit longer to reply. "It will have to be done discreetly. If we alert the ambush of our presence, they may alert Drew."

"If she's smart she'll know something is up when you're not with us," said Annabeth.

"She thinks she's too smart," noted Percy with a grin. "We could sprinkle some other story and no doubt she'll buy it."

"Possibly but she'll be on her way by now. We should get ready."

They said their goodbyes, Chris and Clarisse moving swiftly to head off the ambush while Percy brushed away their map with his boot. Annabeth limped towards the meeting point, Percy trailing. She had left her cloak at the physician's and a breeze ruffled her hair, causing her to shiver and re-tighten the strap to keep it from her face. Reaching the point where they were to make their stand, Annabeth rested against crates left in the street, testing her range of movement in her leg. Percy watched her, though his face was half in shadow, she knew he was worried.

"I'll be fine," she assured him with a smile.

He moved closer, reaching out and grabbing her hand. She let him, her skin tingling and heart kicking a little. He watched his thumb trace light circles on the back of her hand, his eyes softening a little when she gently squeezed his hand.

"What if we let them go?" he asked quietly. He met her gaze. "What if you declare yourself a traitor to the Elites?" Annabeth leant back slightly in surprise, but she didn't pull her hand away; not yet. "You wouldn't have to go to the Cave. You wouldn't have to risk your life for Luke anymore. You could come with me, to the village," he added softly, his eyes searching hers.

She glanced away, her eyes now the ones of their grasped hands. He knew the consequences of her actions. Of course he did, he was once an Elite himself. He also knew what had to be done if Annabeth was to keep her position and continue her mission. While she wasn't considering killing all of them, Drew and her Elites couldn't report back. Better to let Luke think they had deserted or gone missing. Annabeth had considered grabbing the Crystal and using it as a pardoning chip, but she couldn't trust he would take it and not punish her anyway.

Yet, she couldn't help but picture what would happen if she did accept Percy's proposal. She would go with him to his home, explore these new feelings she had developed and maybe they would grow … Maybe she could find a new home just as Chris had described. She had never had any issues with her place at the Elites but what if she could settle down? And instead of wielding a knife or a sword she could wield a pen and create villages and cities of her own, finally able to build something of her own …

But there was Luke and the Elites and their goals. Didn't she want that? What if she left and someone else, Drew, probably, went to grab the Crystal but they didn't understand the risks. What if Luke then ruled and she was obliged to serve him once again but without the status or privileges she had gained. There was no saying whether Percy would stay with her either. What if she threw everything away for nothing?

"I can't," said Annabeth. She found his gaze, giving him an apologetic smile. "I know the risks, others that would be sent in my place wouldn't. That's not fair on them."

"And Luke entrusted it to you," he added, smiling though it didn't reach his eyes. "I knew what your answer would be, but I had to try."

With her free hand, she reached up and placed her palm against his cheek. To her surprise, he didn't flinch away but leaned into her touch, his eyes lighting with her gesture.

"Maybe after …" she said, not quite an offer but more of a suggestion.

"Maybe after," he repeated, turning his head slightly to kiss her palm. What a strange thing, she thought wondrously, as her heart warmed the longer she gazed at him.

Movement had Annabeth turning, dropping her hands to her weapons as Drew and the remaining Elites came into view. There were hard gazes in each of the faces that met Annabeth's; they wanted blood. She was very conscious of her wound, knowing she would have to put every bit of skill she had learnt into practise. Firstly to stay alive and secondly to not kill all of them.

"How cute," said Drew, sneering. "A lover's last embrace. I can't wait to kill you both. How's the leg?"

Annabeth stood tall, drawing both her knives. "Don't do this, Drew."

Drew smiled. "Afraid you'll lose? You should be."

With a click of her fingers, bandits joined her and the Elites. She heard Percy shuffle and knew without looking they had been flanked, demolishing their plan of attack. Their shoulder's touched and Annabeth met his gaze, giving him a tiny nod and quirk of her lips. It wasn't the end; they still would have a chance. Unless these bandits were part of the intended ambush and something had happened to Chris and Clarisse.

"Hiring bandits isn't our way," said Annabeth angrily.

"I didn't want anyone to miss out on the fun," Drew told Annabeth once she faced her again. "A lot has changed since you left. Think of it as the beginning of the new order." Drew's eyes narrowed. "Where's that stupid Arenian and her partner?" she asked.

Annabeth smirked, relieved that they could still be alive. "Can't you see them?" A nervous ripple went through the bandits and Elites. "No? I expect you will soon enough."

"I hated hearing your sanctimonious preaching day in, day out," she snarled. "Finally, I get to shut you up."

The Elites sent the bandits in first, who were more than happy to charge at a seemingly inferior number. After the first few fell, the Elites moved in, Drew hanging back again to watch the carnage. Annabeth and Percy weaved around each other, their weapons slicing through air, skin and armour as the clash of steel and cries of pain echoed around them. While they weren't yet a seamless fighting unit, Percy and Annabeth were still effective and even her hinderance. They soon felled half of the bandits and incapacitated two of the younger Elites, but still more came.

Annabeth leapt up onto the crates, kicking away a spear and somersaulting off into the space behind her attackers. She staggered on the landing, grunting as her leg flared in pain, batting away another spear and losing her footing after a shield was barged into her side. She waited for the next strike, parrying it and sending the attacker off-balance, driving home her secondary knife into his chest. She dropped down and spun, taking out the legs of a bandit, rising to grab her knife from the bandit's chest before he collapsed, throwing it at another, diving and rolling to meet the bandit who had her knife in her shoulder, slicing her other across her neck and facing the next three coming at her.

Drew was becoming more agitated with each fighter Annabeth and Percy took down. She yelled at her Elites, yelled at the bandits, shrieking and darting behind cover when Percy threw a spear in her direction. She seemed to realise that the ambush she had planned was not coming and her bandits weren't a match for Annabeth and Percy. She screamed out something, Annabeth could not hear what, maybe an order? Then, after several more bandits fell under Annabeth's knives, she was pushed back, the remaining bandits surging together in front of her, locking their crudely kept shields together.

She paused, her leg throbbing and her panted breaths and heartbeat loud in her ears, her eyes searching for Percy. He stood on the other side of the bandit wall, breathing heavily as he took in the new formation. His cheek was bleeding and the cut on his eyebrow had split and widened. He was hunched, his arm holding his ribs protectively and he was facing the remaining Elites and Drew. Annabeth's stomach flopped and she charged forward with a yell, slicing, hacking, doing everything she could to get through.

She had underestimated Drew. Underestimated the number of bandits Drew had at her disposal. Annabeth should have been prepared for any situation, would have been, if she hadn't let her feelings cloud her mind. It was those feelings that were going to get Percy killed. Drew had waited until Annabeth and Percy were engrossed in the fight, weaving in and around the street until they stood far enough apart that they could be separated entirely. It didn't matter if the majority of the bandits were killed; Drew only needed enough to keep Annabeth preoccupied so her and the Elites could get to Percy without her interfering.

No matter how many Annabeth sliced through, more bandits took their place. She screamed in frustration as Percy tried valiantly to defend the attacks from the Elites, but he was faltering. One strike would get through his defence and he would block a few more before another would get passed, then another. He was backtracking, blood flowing freely from several wounds on his arms and legs, his face also copping a few hits.

A brutish looking bandit strode forward, grunting a laugh and tossing aside his war hammer. The Elites melted away and the bandit caught Percy's wrist as he went to strike, backhanding him. He stumbled, spitting out blood, trying to strike again and getting another punch to the chest for his troubles. Annabeth split a bandit's head open, stabbing another in the eyes as Percy's sword fell to the ground. He pulled a small knife from his boot, slashing wildly which was easily avoided by the bandit. On another wild swing, Percy's arm was grabbed and the bandit, with his free hand, punched Percy once, twice, three times in the face.

Annabeth was frantically trying to break through as a groggy Percy was dropped to the ground. He swayed on his hands and knees, trying to reach his sword. The bandit smiled toothily at Drew, who returned his smile with a smug one of her own as he picked Percy up by the scruff of his armour, hitting him hard in his chest. A wet, sucking breath escaped Percy as he was tossed to the ground. Percy managed to roll onto his back, his chest spasming as he coughed and choked.

Maybe it was the sight of the bandit grabbing the hammer, walking casually over to where Percy lay. Maybe it was the smug expression on Drew's face. Maybe it was the way the remaining Elites, her supposed brothers and sisters, just stood around and watched as Percy struggled to breathe where he fell. Annabeth could not explain how she managed it, not when she was so outnumbered, but something happened, a rage or desperation or drive she had never experienced before, settled within her. And she was unstoppable.

A red haze surrounded her vision, her target only that of reaching Percy, whatever the cost. There was no noise, save for a ringing in her ears that slowly intensified into a roar. She moved faster than she had moved, she was as swift as the wind, and her attacks were unmatched. If she was injured, she could not feel it, only persisted in her goal. She was behind the shield wall and then she was over it, taking as many who stood in her way out as she could. The bandit was a foot from Percy, getting ready to raise his weapon for the killing blow … and then he was taking a step back, too surprised to even raise it to defend himself as Annabeth flew over Percy to intercede, her knives criss-crossing over each other, causing the bandit's head to tumble from his shoulders, rolling as it hit the ground.

Annabeth landed, crouching protectively between Percy and the Elites, who moved into a defensive stance, their eyes widening in shock and fear. The remaining bandits moved in behind Annabeth, encircling her and Percy, each weapon directed at her. The red haze that bordered her vision was fading as was the ringing in her ears. She could hear her heavy breaths, Percy's ragged ones at her feet and the groans of pain from the bandits still clinging to life in her wake.

"Give it up!" Drew cried in annoyance. She was panting slightly, her face paling as she noticed the destruction caused by Annabeth. She raised a shaky sword, pointing it at her and then Percy. "You can't protect him, not now. You can't win," she snapped.

Annabeth looked down at Percy, his breaths wheezing painfully from his chest. She grimaced at the sight of his damaged and bloodied body, knowing it was her fault. She wanted to crumple down beside him, wanted to tell him she was sorry she brought him into this but most of all she wanted to take his suffering and make it hers. Let her carry his pain, so he didn't have to.

"Put him out of his misery and I will let you live," Drew coaxed, seeing how she looked at him. "I will even take you back to Luke. Tied up, of course," she added, relishing the idea.

Annabeth felt her rage spark. This was not her fault, this was Drew's. Her pathetic attempt to overhaul Annabeth at Luke's side had done this. Percy was in pain, dying, Annabeth grimaced at the thought, because of her jealousy and power-hungry obsession. She hated her. She hated that bitch and her naïve brothers and sisters that followed her blindly. They would pay, they would understand just what Annabeth could be capable of when pushed. Even if she was to die as well, she didn't care, not anymore.

"You're supposed to be some smart strategist, but this is just ridiculous," she sighed angrily when Annabeth took a deep breath, straightened and raised her knives, letting her rage fuel her adrenaline. "Get it over with," she commanded of the bandits and Elites, and then chaos erupted.

A spear flew from the darkness, landing in Drew's throat. The scene froze as Drew gurgled and drowned in her blood, falling to her knees and clawing at the spear as a familiar defiant cry came from the same direction. Clarisse charged through several bandits like a raging bull, knocking them aside and swinging a broad axe she picked up from who knew where. Chris followed along with two other men Annabeth hadn't seen before, but she was up and attacking the closest enemies to her, one of which was Paige, who was too stunned to defend herself and fell with two swift slashes to her chest.

By the time the bandits had realised the threat, they had been overpowered. The remaining few alive fled but Clarisse, Chris and one of the strangers gave chase. Annabeth returned her focus on Percy, her adrenaline spiking with her fear. She knelt at his side, her hands hovering over his body, unsure what to do and how to treat him. His eyes fluttered, or she thought they did but there was too much blood covering his face she could hardly make it out in the darkness. She went to undo the straps of his armour when she was shoved aside.

Rolling to her feet with a snarl, she pulled free her knife, facing her newest attacker. The blonde-haired man stood beside Percy, an arrow pointed at Annabeth's head, a deep scowl lining his face. She charged forward, batting away the arrow that came flying towards her, trying to drive her knife into his chest. He knocked her blow away with his bow, whipping it back to try and whack her with the other end. She arched back to avoid it, pulling free her second knife to stab his side. She was deflected again and then hauled up from behind and thrown away. With a scream, she spun and faced the new opponent, which was Chris, his hands up in front of him. She tried to get around him, but he met her again.

"Stop! Annabeth, stop!" Chris shouted at her, pushing against her chest. "You're on the same side!"

"She's an Elite," the man growled, trying to get a shot around Chris. "She's trying to finish Percy!"

"I'm saving him from you!" she screeched back. She lost a little of her determination to get past Chris, dimly remembering him charging behind Clarisse, his arrows doing most of the work to subdue the remaining bandits.

The man scoffed. "He has a better chance with me because I'm a healer," he shot back, withdrawing his bow. He continued to scowl at her. "Is this the one he was travelling with?" he asked Chris.

"Yes," Chris panted.

The man gave a curt nod, then lost interest in Annabeth entirely, crouching down beside Percy to examine him. Annabeth stopped struggling against Chris, stationing herself a little distance from Percy's feet, her eyes on his chest, willing him to keep breathing.

"We tried to get here as fast as we could," Chris explained, wiping blood from his face and hands. "But there was more than Clarisse had first scouted. She's chasing down the remaining ones with Nico." Annabeth nodded distractedly.

"We need to get him off the street," the man informed them. "Find something flat to carry him on."

"Clara is not far from here. The local physician," added Annabeth, at his raised eyebrow while Chris ran off.

Unable to find the man's request, Chis and the man resorted to carrying Percy as carefully as they could to the physician's house. Annabeth walked at Percy's side having not been given any instruction to help, nor did the man seem inclined to ask for her assistance. Clara was a little shocked when she tentatively opened the door for them, listening to the man's diagnosis as they carried Percy into a side room with a cot. Clara looked apologetically at Annabeth when she saw the room, but Annabeth didn't care, her breath sucking in with a sharp gasp when they finally removed Percy's armour and cut through his undershirt to reveal the multiple bruises forming. With the walls of the room feeling like they were closing in on her as Clara and Will circled around Percy like a protective mother, Annabeth moved towards the fire, collapsing into one of the chairs and placing her head into her hands.

She didn't move from that that position, not that she felt she could. Chris said something to her, she didn't hear him over the dull ringing in her ears. She was in shock, she registered with some surprise. Her adrenaline had faded but she was still numb, replaying the way Percy was brutally attacked. The way his head snapped back painfully with the last blow, his blood flying from his mouth and cheek from the impact. How he staggered, trying to remain on his feet, his feeble breaths as he lay, the wheezing that escaped his lips.

Annabeth was grabbed on the arm. She reacted instinctively, her mind reliving the remnants of the fight. Her other hand lashed out, capturing the wrist as she was taught to do. She brought it away, her free hand reaching for her knife, partially unsheathing it as a feminine gasp of surprise had her pausing.

"I'm just checking your injuries," Clara said, trying to sound calm and reassuring.

"You should be with Percy," Annabeth replied flatly, releasing her wrist.

"Percy's stable and resting."

"See to the others."

"I already have."

Annabeth glanced towards her, then back to the flames. "I'm not injured," she said tiredly. She grunted sharply and flinched away when Clara reached out and prodded her cheek, causing a dull ache. She glared at Clara and then sighed, knowing her irritation was misplaced. "Why help me?" she asked. "This is my fault."

"I'm not here to place blame on anyone," answered Clara. "You kept your promise and I'm thankful for that." Annabeth sighed, returning her gaze to the fire, not wanting any sort of gratitude. "Listen," said Clara kindly. "There's a bath upstairs. The water might still be warm if you wanted to clean yourself up?"

Annabeth glanced down at herself. Her armour had deep gashes, her left bracer loose from a torn strap but that was hard to distinguish from the layers of blood and dirt that coated her clothes. Her hands were stained red, and she could only imagine how much covered her face and hair. She sighed again, getting gingerly to her feet, her leg wound protesting. She limped up the stairs behind Clara, her eyes travelling to the room where Percy lay, seeing several silhouettes standing beside him.

There were only three rooms upstairs that Annabeth could see when they reached the landing. Clara led her to the small washroom in the middle. The far door closed with a small gasp when they reached the door, no doubt from the daughter Clara had been wanting to protect. The washroom barely had enough room for the tub, but Annabeth was beyond caring.

"I'll be waiting when you're finished," Clara told her, closing the door behind her.

The water was lukewarm when Annabeth finally struggled free from her armour and clothes. She slipped in, resting her head against the edge. She glanced up at the ceiling and, for the first time in her life, she had no idea what she was going to do.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

* * *

Three days. That's how long it was until Percy regained consciousness. That's how long Annabeth had felt as though she was frozen, ripped apart by her conflicting loyalties, pride and heart as they vied for her attention. The five of them had taken refuge in Clara's house, sprawled on chairs when they weren't guarding the house or, in Chris' case, speaking to the town guard. Annabeth left that up to the others, spending much of her time on a small wooden stool beside Percy, watching him until she fell asleep, only to jerk awake when he shifted or moaned. Unable to do anything but watch, Annabeth had never experienced such helplessness.

It was mid-morning when he finally woke, Annabeth setting aside her cup of tea that she was wishing was mead when she saw him stir. Clara was instantly there, as was the bowman who Annabeth learnt was named Will. Him and his partner, Nico, had been tracking the bandits that Drew hired. Annabeth realised dimly that these were the two Percy had inquired about with the Stoll brothers, but none of that mattered as he struggled to open his eyes.

The group huddled into the small room as his eyes gazed up at the ceiling, blinking, before drifting down, taking in each of them, settling on Annabeth last. One of his eyes was still swollen shut but seeing that green eased the tightness that had been building in her chest for the past three days.

"We won, then." Was the first word's Percy rasped out. A collective sigh went through the occupants of the room. Annabeth rolled her eyes but smiled in relief.

"Perce …" Chris breathed.

"Don't worry about it," he croaked reassuringly. "I know I still look better than your girl." There was a thud and a slam as Clarisse stormed from the room. Percy eyed the exit with his good eye, then said, "that wasn't even my worse line. You better go," he directed at Chris. "She's more than likely to hit some unsuspecting person if you don't." Chris brushed a hand against his arm before going to find Clarisse.

Nico, after a nod, slipped quietly from the room. Annabeth watched him, having not even noticed he had come in. She had only seen the friend either late in the evening or early morning when the others had gone to sleep. Dressed entirely in black, with olive skin, dark eyes and hair, he blended perfectly with the shadows, seeming to prefer its company rather than that of people. He reported on the activity after their skirmish, keeping an eye on people. If there were any signs of repercussions, Chris was alerted and hastily defused it. The glimpses she caught of him, speaking quietly with Will, the way their heads were bent close together, the brushes of fingers against arms or hands, she saw that there was one person whose company Nico didn't mind.

A quiet voice said her name and she returned her focus to Percy. He was looking at her, the quips and bravado gone. His gaze gently searched hers, and he seemed to read everything she had felt while he lay unconscious. All the pain, indecision, doubt … he saw it all and seemed to understand.

"It's that terrible, isn't it?"

"Yes," Annabeth admitted. "But I thought that when I first saw you," she added, trying to lighten the mood.

A ghost of a grin appeared through the bruises. "Really?" he asked, his voice soft but serious.

"No," she replied just as soft. Percy smiled then, and those days waiting for him to wake was worth it. "You're breathing easier," she noted, before scrunching her nose with how stupid the comment sounded.

"Good to know," he replied sleepily, his eyes shutting as he slipped back under.

"At least he's awake," came a short voice. Annabeth almost jumped, forgetting she wasn't alone with Percy. "If he didn't come out of his coma soon, I feared he wouldn't wake at all."

Will, the bowman and healer, came around to Percy's other side, flicking his blonde hair from his face impatiently as he checked vitals. Annabeth rose quietly to her feet, slipping out the door and house, smiling glumly at Clara as she passed. She wasn't entirely sure what she had done to Will, but it was clear from their first encounter that he had a grudge against her. She had tried to steer clear of him outside of Percy's quarters, knowing how he felt of her continuing presence, but she refused to leave Percy's side because he had a problem with her. So, they would studiously ignore each other when Will would check over Percy every few hours. He was beside Percy almost as much as Annabeth was, and the tension was always there, brimming between them.

Chris was waiting for her at the tavern when she entered, a cup of mead already poured. She downed the cup in two gulps, flagging down another as she tossed the coins on the table for the maid. Chris let her finish her second cup before speaking.

"The kids are a little bit more receptive today," he told her, to which she nodded. "They were telling me some interesting things about Drew. She really didn't think highly of you," he added.

Annabeth snorted, toasting sarcastically at him before taking another deep drink. "Her poison is almost as potent as Arachne's," she said, staring at the cup in her hand. "I never wanted any of this to happen, Chris."

"I know," he said softly.

The first couple of days she blamed it on her restricted movement, her leg wound having re-opened and needing to be re-bandaged and rested but she knew she couldn't put it off forever. The two Elite recruits Annabeth had incapacitated had been restrained and held under the watchful eye of Chris and the town guard, waiting for Annabeth to decide what was to be done with them. They couldn't return to Luke, and she was reluctant to execute them or have them tag along with her, the remaining options not amounting to much.

The meeting did not go well, though Annabeth had not expected it to. They had already decided how to view Annabeth and despite her best efforts, they stubbornly insisted she was a brainwashed traitor Drew had painted her as. She could see their disappointment, their feelings of betrayal with her, the legendary Elite who could do no wrong, and deep-down Annabeth couldn't blame them. If Chris hadn't been there, Annabeth would've buckled under their accusations.

In those three days, Annabeth understood just how strong Chris was. He held everything together, handling the repercussions that were threatening to tear into them. The town guard had received a somewhat truthful version of events and assisted with the disposing of the bandit bodies strewn around their village. They kept a heavy presence in the streets, so any remaining survivors didn't feel the need to return. Chris, along with Nico and Clarisse, had and disposed of the fallen Elites, admitting to Annabeth at their first unofficial tavern meeting that he knew the specific funeral rites that were due to them as well as removing any evidence any Elite had set foot in the town. She hadn't yet visited her fallen brethren and she didn't know whether she would before she left.

"Now that Percy's awake," Chris started hesitantly. "Do you have idea when you'll …"

Annabeth lowered her head, her fingers drumming along the cup. "Probably a couple of days," she said quietly.

Chris' answering gaze was glum but understanding. He knew how much it would pain her and Percy, but they both knew it was for the best.

Annabeth found herself sitting beside Percy once more that evening, wondering how her journey had led her to this. It was supposed to be straight-forward but there she was, anxiously waiting for a person, who was not Luke, to wake. This same person who was changing her perception on where she stood, what she believed, what she felt. The same person she could see a new future with; if she could fix the mess she caused.

Time was running out. She needed to grab the Crystal before everything got further out of control. Bandits were flooding towns and villages, spurred on and almost going mad with the prospect of battles. The darker religious cults were recruiting forcefully with a number of disappearances, only for their remains to be found at crudely made altars. Octavian had been rumoured to be gathering a large force, heading towards the cave in preparation for his rise to new power. Luke and the Elites were also building a substantial force with a number of fresh recruits, awaiting the arrival of the strongest Elite with the Crystal in hand. Yes, Nico had been very thorough when reporting this to Clarisse and Chris, Will leaving the door ajar so Annabeth could hear the repercussions of Luke's actions.

Grabbing a bowl and sponge from the worktable and returning, Annabeth began to wash Percy's arms, taking care not to press too hard. Clara had been busy, with an increased amount of addled men being dragged into her house, overdosed on whatever drugs were being sold and consumed. The demand had risen with the chaos, spurring many into a drug-fuelled rage with no thought for their actions. Thefts and house invasions were also on the rise, though Clara's place had so far been untouched thanks to the reputations of her house guests.

Annabeth turned down the sheets to his hips, trying hard not to stare at the colour combination that coated his chest and abdomen. The sponge glided lightly over his shoulders and chest, then under his arms and down his sides. Even if Luke gave her the order to back down and abandon her task, the momentum was too great and she would just get swept up in it, trying to stay alive amongst the carnage. It didn't matter; Luke would never back down. Wasn't it a better position to side with him then be seen as an enemy?

Lost in thought, Annabeth glanced down and realised she had been running the sponge back and forth across Percy's abdomen, just above where the sheets sat under his belly button. She paused, her fingers hovering over his skin. What was wrong with her? She shouldn't want to touch him while he lay injured, shouldn't want to let her fingers roam over his chest, feeling each muscle, bump and scar and storing it to memory. She shouldn't want to press her lips against his when his breathing had only just steadied. She moved the sponge back up, the tips of her fingers grazing his stomach as she did. She took a deep breath, her heart beating a little faster …

"If you go any lower, someone will think you're taking advantage of me," came Percy's hoarse voice.

Annabeth pulled her hand back quickly; glad he couldn't see her blush or hear the racing of her heart. "Someone thinks highly of themselves," she noted, trying to hide her embarrassment. She placed the sponge in the dish. "Especially when you smell the way you do."

Percy smiled. Despite the heavy shadows cast over him, causing his bruises to appear more menacing, she was relieved to see his smile. "I have a serious question." Annabeth braced herself. "I didn't lose any teeth, did I?"

"You will still have your pretty smile," Annabeth assured him, rolling her eyes to appear exasperated.

"You think it's pretty?"

"Not at the moment."

A chuckle escaped his lips before he groaned, clutching his side with a shaky hand. "Please, no jokes." Silence fell between them, Annabeth searching for something, anything, she could do to ease his pain. While her eyes were at the door, she felt something on her hand. Before she pulled away, she realised it was Percy's hand. Her eyes travelled up his arm to see his own soft gaze on her. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "For stepping in. For saving my life."

But she almost didn't. She was almost too late. He shouldn't thank her, not when she was the cause.

"This isn't your fault," he said softly, squeezing her hand lightly, ever perceptive of her feelings. "I will never blame you for this." Annabeth closed her eyes, preventing her tears from falling but unable to stop the grimace that came to her face. "I knew what I was getting into when I followed you. You shouldn't blame yourself."

Keeping her eyes closed, Annabeth took several deep breaths, focusing her attention of the warmth on her hand. It was a steady pressure, a calming presence against the turbulent thoughts.

"There's something we need to discuss …" she began but when she looked back up, Percy had already fallen back asleep.

Clarisse was sitting on an old barrel beside the door when Annabeth left for the morning, smoke obscuring her face as she pushed it out her mouth. Seeing Annabeth, she rose, grinning with the cigarette between her teeth, smoke curling around her head as she led her around to the back of the house, removing her jacket. The jacket was thrown onto a rack on the back wall, a wooden pole beside it grabbed and twirled as Clarisse moved into the centre of the cleared ground, cracking her neck and rolling her shoulders. Annabeth removed her long-sleeved shirt in favour of a slimmer singlet she wore underneath, placed it beside the jacket before retrieving her double batons, walking slowly to stand opposite Clarisse.

Out of all them, Clarisse was the last one that Annabeth thought could help her. But she did and Annabeth had a newfound respect for the Arenian. After a stern warning from Chris not to goad drunkards into fighting, Clarisse had become bored and stir-crazy the longer she had to go without hitting someone. She noticed Annabeth had the same built-up tension and frustration, forcing her to become her sparring partner to pass the time. Reluctant at first, Annabeth was dragged out but soon came to enjoy the few hours in the early morning they spent together, glad for something to take her mind off the unconscious boy in the room.

Once in position, they attacked each other, focusing wholly on overpowering the other rather than their troubles. Clarisse struggled under Annabeth's finely tuned technique but held out longer than most, gradually clawing the contest to be of more equal footing. They fought each other until their exhaustion was all they could think about, their muscles almost buckling with their fatigue. They moved to the bucket of water Chris had found and supplied, each grabbing a ladle.

Clarisse chuckled. "Your shadow is back," she informed her.

Annabeth didn't bother to turn around as she took a large drink of water, already knowing what she would see. "How do you know she's not here for you?"

Her question got a snort in response. "Kid's been trying to copy your lame ass knife manoeuvres with that pitiful paring knife. Seen her doing it round the side of the house when you go inside."

Annabeth sighed, reaching for her shirt. The daughter had taken to watching Annabeth covertly from door frames or windows since she had first seen her the night of the skirmish, covered head to foot in blood and dirt. She blushed and ducked from view whenever Annabeth met her stare. The attention was tiring, and Annabeth thought her continued ignorance would be a deterrent, though she hadn't been hopeful. She would have to put an end to it, make the daughter realise Annabeth wasn't someone to admire, because she would only end up disappointed as two others had been.

Clarisse read Annabeth's thoughts, sticking another cigarette in her mouth and loudly grabbed her jacket, leaving by the other side with a wide grin. Dawdling, Annabeth appeared to have followed, only to double back and wait as the girl timidly moved out onto the spot Annabeth had occupied, pulling the small paring knife Clarisse mentioned from her belt. She started slashing the air, including sound effects with movements Annabeth could recognise. Taking care to be silent, Annabeth walked up to her unsuspecting back, waiting until she spun around with a slash. The girl gasped and jumped away, her eyes wide on Annabeth's hard gaze.

"What are you doing?" she asked with her arms crossed.

The girl blushed and glanced away, tucking her hands behind her back. "Nothing," she said, barely audible.

Annabeth stared at the girl, waiting, hoping her intimidation would have her admitting. When it didn't, she turned to walk away, tilting her head so she could watch the girl from the corner of her eyes. The girl shuffled her feet, rocking back and forth, her eyes darting to Annabeth and away every few seconds with her indecision.

Then she couldn't help it, bursting out, "I was practising."

Annabeth turned, raising an eyebrow. "Practising what?"

Her blush deepened. "To be like you."

"You don't want to be like me," she told the girl after taking a deep breath.

The girl's shoulders slumped, her head bowing. Annabeth looked at her, really looked at her. She was slim, bordering on thin underneath her simple dress. Her skin was a milky pale shade, though her cheeks were currently bright red. Her hair was fair and straight, pulled from her face by a white bandanna. The way she teetered on the balls of her feet said to Annabeth that was a nervous sort, and didn't interact with many people, which made the way she avoided the other children in the town plausible.

Annabeth smirked and scoffed in realisation with a head shake. So, she had been keeping an eye on the physician's daughter. Subconsciously, but it was obvious she had been. She was going soft. Or sentimental because she couldn't help but compare the girl to herself when she was that age. Someone had helped her then, got her on her feet, taught her to live and survive … Cursing inwardly, she placed a bent finger under the girl's chin, forcing her to look up.

"You want to be yourself," she added. A tentative smile hovered on the edge of the girl's lips seeing Annabeth smiling softly at her. "Show me your stance," she ordered politely.

The girl looked confused at first but moved into position when she understood. Annabeth suppressed a grin, striding over to correct her.

"It's not bad," she commented. "But bend your knees. No, not quite like that. Just relaxed, easy. Set your feet like this. There you go. We stand this way, so it gives us a chance to either charge forward or flee."

"You run away?" asked the girl incredulously.

"If I need to," Annabeth answered, letting the lie slip easily from her lips. She crouched in front her, staring into her luminous brown eyes. "You shouldn't want to fight," she told her earnestly. "Only fight if you are given no other choice. Do you understand?"

The girl nodded vigorously. She looked at Annabeth seriously, her mouth twisting a little as she bit the inside of her cheek nervously.

"I'm Elora," she introduced herself nervously. "Will you show me? Please?"

Smiling reassuringly again, Annabeth rose to her feet and became a teacher for the day.

"You were with my daughter today," Clara said, causing Annabeth to pause at the top of the stairs.

Clara had been gracious, allowing the five of them to stay in her house, coming and going at all hours and sharing her food that there wasn't much of despite Clarisse and Nico often venturing out to hunt in the nearby forest. Annabeth had been the only one to venture upstairs and bathe when it was not in use, but she could hear in Clara's tone that a line had been crossed when it came to her interacting with her daughter.

"I understand your concerns," Annabeth replied quietly, gazing back.

"Then you will also understand that it needs to cease," she continued in a hard voice.

"No," came a soft gasp.

Annabeth's eyes flickered towards the ajar door at the end of the hall, catching her pleading expression before nodding to Clara, heading downstairs as Elora burst from her room towards her mother. Annabeth tuned out the argument that construed, slipping silently into Percy's room. Will glanced towards her, frowned but said nothing as she took her stool by his bedside.

"Seems you cause trouble wherever you go," Will commented, hearing the argument also.

Annabeth clenched her jaw to prevent the retort she longed to dish out, knowing it wouldn't help matters. "I'll be leaving soon," she told him quietly.

"Not soon enough," he muttered through thin lips.

Annabeth eyed him, frowning when she noticed he had a tattoo. It wasn't that he had one but more that she hadn't seen it; though, she supposed, she had been occupied. His shirt was open at the neck, which gave some reasoning to why it was only being discovered. The tattoo itself was an intricate pattern, a symbol, sitting on his left collarbone but closer to his neck, even winding up a little towards his jaw.

In a passing glimpse it was covered once more, darkness assisting. Without any further jibes, Will left Annabeth with Percy and she was left to wonder what sort the tattooed symbol represented. She had seen branding on bandits, but Will's didn't appear to be a brand. A cult? Plausible, but the designs she memorised for religious cults didn't have that patterning and she knew basically all of them. She would need to make a copy in her notebook and do some investigating.

"When were you leaving?"

Annabeth almost jumped from the stool and drew her weapon. Absorbed in the mysterious tattoo, she had forgotten the reason she was in the room with Will. Percy was watching her carefully through his eyes, both now open though still with heavy bruising. She had assumed he was asleep but looking at him, he was very much awake, and very much struggling to control whatever emotions he was feeling.

"I was waiting until you woke," she admitted quietly.

Percy nodded, shifting to a half-sitting position with a soft grunt. "That's courteous," he said lightly. "Would've understood if you cut and run. Maybe," he added, with a wry grin that didn't reach his eyes.

"This has to end," she told him seriously.

"It's not fair," he murmured. "I can't go with you."

Tears came to her eyes. Why did he have to say that? It was hard enough for her to leave but for him to say that, and the raw emotion in his voice ... she wanted to hold him, she wanted to cling to him, make him tell her to wait and that she wasn't stupid for feeling the way she did. But he wouldn't do that. Because he knew it was what had to be done, regardless of feelings. So, she smiled softly at him, reached out and took his hand.

"You kept up your end, more than enough. I was always going to enter the Cave alone."

Percy glanced away, his jaw clenching. He then nodded and pulled his hand from her grasp, unable to look at her. She had half expected his disapproval, but it did nothing to dull the sting. She rose quietly, leaving him to brood while she collected her things, informing Chris and Clarisse she would be leaving in the next couple of days.


	14. Chapter 14

**As always, these characters do not belong to me.**

**Chapter Fourteen**

Annabeth hated farewells. It was why she left her home in the middle of the night when she was a girl, why she kept most who knew her at arm's length. Why would it matter if she left without saying goodbye if they hardly knew her? She let the news of her departure sink in the day before she did, the most resistant of the inhabitants to her plans being the youngest, deciding that ignoring Annabeth was the best form of protest. While it was hurtful, she could push it aside, focusing on the repairing of her armour and weapons and getting enough supplies for the remainder of her journey. She estimated it would take another four days to the Cave if she moved with haste and encountered no other problems.

After her last conversation with Percy, she left him alone, knowing he would prefer it that way. He was healing well under the watchful eye of Will and Clara, but it wasn't fast enough. She kept trying to convince herself the severing of ties was inevitable, trying to lessen the pain in her chest. The morning of her departure she got dressed and thanked Clara, leaving a pouch of coins on her worktable for her to notice later when Annabeth was long gone and didn't have to deal with awkward thank yous.

"Annabeth," Percy called out softly when she reached the entrance. She hesitated for a second, catching a glimpse of Chris and Clarisse talking by her horse, before diverting to his room.

He had a bit more colour in his face and sitting more upright, which she was relieved to see. He watched her movements carefully as she entered, Will silently leaving the room. Annabeth stood a little to the side of the doorway, unsure if she should sit or remain in close proximity to the exit. She didn't let him see that though, wanting to appear nonchalant but that did nothing to ease the tension in the air between them.

"I can't stop you from leaving," he began. "And I won't. But I want … I would ask you to consider something. I've delved into my experiences, and you've seen how it's affected me." He glanced away briefly, taking a deep breath before meeting her eyes. "I believe that the Crystal is not meant for us, for people. What do you think will happen to Luke if you delivered it to him? Or what will happen to you?"

Annabeth had no answer, which wasn't the first time he put a question to her that held her tongue. His lips quirked at her silence, as if he understood the doubts she couldn't utter, the hesitation that kept her feet stuck to the floor.

"Just keep it in mind," he said. "As you will be in mine."

Annabeth blinked at the honesty, the boldness of his words. He didn't appear embarrassed, just stating what was his truth and a truth they had both been tiptoeing around for a while. Her chest tightened, a watery smile playing on her lips the longer she looked at him, his bruised frame, laying there because of her. She moved forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead, lingering just a fraction more than one should. Without looking back, she strode from the room and the house, out towards her horse.

"There's enough supplies to get you to your destination," Chris informed her when she approached. If he heard or saw the exchange, he didn't comment on it. "Thought you wouldn't want to be stopping with the way tensions are building."

"Thanks Chris," she said gratefully, shaking his hand. "I know this isn't … thank you."

Chris nodded, stepping aside so Clarisse could say her goodbyes, which included a bear hug and a hearty slap on her back. "Don't start the fighting without me," she threatened lightly.

Annabeth grinned, glad to see at least one of them didn't judge her decisions. She gave a small bundle to the Clarisse, who eyed it with a questioning eyebrow, revealing one of the small knives Annabeth kept in her boot. "For Elora. She shouldn't have to keep using that paring knife," she added. "Might want to give it to her discreetly," she noted upon seeing Clara walked past the entrance back towards another patient.

Clarisse grinned mischievously. "Don't worry, Blondie. She'll get it."

Annabeth nodded once, grabbing the reins. She bowed her head, desperately wanting to glance back towards the house just to see if she could get a glimpse of him, but she knew she wouldn't, not from where she was standing. Instead, she placed her boot into the stirrup, pulling herself up onto Silver Mist's saddle. Looking ahead, she was about to kick Silver Mist into moving forward when Nico walked up beside her, reins in his hand and a white horse trailing behind him.

He said nothing as she paused beside her, shaking hands with Chris and nudging forearms with Clarisse on the way. He simply glanced at her inquiring face, staring ahead shortly after.

"Did Percy ask you to do this?" she demanded.

"He didn't need to," Nico replied quietly, leaping into his saddle. "I know him better than you do. It'll ease his mind and help his healing if he knows someone went with you."

"But you would prefer to stay with Will?"

Nico smiled. "Wouldn't you prefer to travel with Percy?" he countered. Annabeth bit her tongue. "I may not agree with your goal, but that doesn't mean I can't go with you." He clicked his horse forward, glancing over his shoulder when she hadn't moved to follow. "Aren't you in a rush?"

As far as travelling companions went, Nico was surprisingly not bad. He was quiet and didn't resort to forcing a conversation, moving swiftly alongside Annabeth towards the Cave. He had a knack for detecting raiding parties and ambushes before they were in range, steering them away to avoid the lag. She was intrigued by his technique and its accuracy and while they did still encounter a few skirmishes, at least the impact to their travels were minimal.

Annabeth's estimation of a four-day travel was correct as the two of them crested the small hill, showing the looming stone-like wall before them, the crack worming its way down the centre and opening into the entrance of the Cave. Annabeth clicked Silver Mist forward, but something unnerved the horse, rearing at the prospect of having to move forward.

"It's the Cave," said Nico in his quiet voice. "The aura surrounding it, I believe. Horses won't go near."

Annabeth cast her eyes towards the surrounding trees, which unfortunately bordered the area save for the clearing at the entrance. The land was also uneven, causing many small hills and mounds like the one Annabeth and Nico were surveying from. Others could spy on the entrance for the daring few to try their luck. Without the aid of her horse, Annabeth would be exposed to an attack when she exited. Having no other choice but to continue on foot, she hopped down, handing the reins to Nico, who eyed her and then the surrounds with caution.

"If I don't come back …" she started but then paused.

Heart or head? And since when did she leave farewell messages? She knew the answer to the latter. She could picture that very answer: black hair that shone under the rays of the sun, broad shoulders that would make anyone with that physique seem tall and imposing, but he held it so that any ally could feel safe standing at his side. And those eyes. If Annabeth was a painter, she could fill the palette with all the shades of green in existence and it still wouldn't match those irises. Oh, why did this had to happen to her?

"Get a message to Luke and tell him not to attempt this, not again," she finished, staring at Nico until he nodded.

Percy would understand. He would do the same. And what they had between them … Annabeth didn't know what that was. It was too early, too raw, too … she couldn't think about that. With a careful watch on the trees and surroundings, she made her way cautiously towards the entrance, one hand on the hilt of her knife. No one interceded, no one cried a warning or encouragement. The wind whistled gently around her, the silence eery with no sign of life anywhere. The wildlife, like the horses, must sense the power emitting from the Cave and avoided it.

She was there, she had finally made it after weeks of setbacks. She paused at the entrance, glancing up at the rock face. There was something there, she could feel it. A small pulsating surge from inside. Maybe she was just imagining it but why was she hesitating? This is what she had come for, this is what she had travelled so far to achieve. Was this part of the defensive mechanisms? Or was this someone else's warning preventing her legs from moving.

Her determination and resolve had her back straightening, her head lifting. No, she wasn't weak. She could do this, will do this, even if it resulted in her death. She took a deep breath, feeling the hums of adrenaline begin to pulse through her nerves. She walked through the crack of an entrance. She paused, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. Torches on either side responded to her presence, lighting up the passageway.

Percy hadn't done it justice. The elegance of the hallway alone took Annabeth's breath away. The craftmanship and time it would've taken to produce the final result would've been years. This is what Annabeth would've loved to create one day. The stone was rare and beautiful; Annabeth doubted any other type existed elsewhere. The buttresses seamlessly moulded into the floor and roof, which spanned higher than Annabeth could see. Human hands could not have crafted this, and yet that had to, or how else could this place exist?

The hallway wasn't long, maybe thirty paces at most but every step Annabeth made further towards the chamber, the pulsating sensation grew. Was it an energy of some sort? There was a dull buzzing in the air, just loud enough to be irritating. She took the last torch from its holster, holding it aloft as she entered the antechamber. This room was slightly smaller than the hallway and instead of buttresses lining the walls there were statues. Impossibly carved with exquisite detail, Annabeth looked into the eyes of the guardians of the Crystal, each standing stoically, watching the entrant. The dozen or so statues each wore different armour and held different weapons in their hands, with the only thing in common was a strange symbol on their chest plate and a round disc at their feet. The symbol sparked something in Annabeth's memory and she frowned, trying to place it but then a sliver of light shone from the main chamber ahead of her and she forgot about it.

She forgot about a lot of things as she stared at that soft glow. The torch slipped from her fingers, rolling across the stone floor and jutting out. She moved forward in a bit of daze, the pulsing quickening and the buzzing growing louder, angrier. She placed hand on the door, pushing it open with a loud creak and rumble of stone against stone. She could see it! The Crystal was just there, sitting on a stone pillar in the centre of the chamber. But it wasn't a 'crystal'. It was a round plate, a disc the size of a small shield that curved inward. It didn't matter what it looked like because it was there, she had found it! She strode towards it, smiling when she saw her reflection in its beautiful clear crystal-like surface. She reached out, placing her fingertips against it, against her reflection …

Pain assaulted her with that touch. Pain she had never experienced before. She knew not even a mortal stab wound would feel like this. It was agonising. Torturous. Not just through her body, but through her mind, cleaving it, snapping it to ribbons and then into mush and then nothing. It was indescribable. It was death. Her screams echoed throughout the Cave.

* * *

_**Percy**_

All he saw was her. The crinkle of an eye when she was frowning in concentration. A lock of her golden curled hair that escaped from its band and caught the sun. The way her callused hands held a knife, or the pencil as she brought buildings and structures to life on a blank page. And her smile. He saw her smile a lot.

Percy opened his eyes. He hated his dreams. Hated them ever since he had escaped that infernal Cave. But no more so than the time he had first seen her. Annabeth. Even thinking her name had his heart fluttering and his fingers twitching, longing to touch her, hold her. He had dreamt of her every night since their meeting in that dirty pub and it's fighting pit. They weren't complete dreams, they never were. Merely snippets and flashes of images, faces, objects, and each time he would wake with frustration and a longing he had never understood. Until he started to get to know her.

He closed his eyes slowly. How did it happen? How did these feelings grow into something? It was that kiss when she was half out of her mind from fright. It was only supposed to be a ploy, to blend in with the other couples at the festival but it changed everything. He was brought to his knees, he was hers. But she wasn't his, didn't want to be his, she was Luke's and that stung a blow that was worse than any wound. Until, there was a chance, a ray of hope, that she could have changed her mind, that her feelings were beginning to replicate his …

And then she left. Continuing on her suicide mission for him, for Luke. He hadn't convinced her. He had failed. His hope deflating as quickly as it had come. Was this better? Letting her go as he had done with Rachel or should he go after her. Should he put everything he had on her? He was never much of a risk-taker with gambling, but he had taken risks in the past for his friends, for those who needed him. She needed him, didn't she? Even if she didn't know that she did.

So why was he moping and licking his wounds like a wounded dog? That wasn't him, and it never would be. Even if she chose Luke, even if she left him again to return to the Elites after making it out of the Cave, shouldn't he do everything he could to get her there, just as he had promised? His mind raced with options, striking out those that wouldn't work, altering others, trying to find a way …

"Chris." His friend was instantly alert, leaning forward. "Can you please get Will?"

Chris took a moment to stare at Percy, before nodding and leaving the room. Could Chris know what Percy wanted? He was more observant than most people knew, Chris. Maybe he was waiting for Percy's request since Annabeth had left the day before. Will came into the room, standing at his side, his arms folded lightly over his chest. It appeared everyone knew what Percy would request.

"You'll never reach her in time," Will stated matter-of-factly.

"I'm not going to try and stop her," replied Percy. "But I have to be there. I have to … know."

He had to know if she was going to return or if, like so many others, she would be lost to the darkness of the Cave. She was strong, impossibly stubborn and as smart as her mother. Her chances were greater than most, but she had never encountered anything like the Cave before.

Will's tone softened, though it was laced with a frankness of a healer to his patient. Percy had heard the tone often. "You wouldn't be able to ride for another two days and even then, it would be only for a couple of hours at a time before the pain would be too much."

"There is a way to be riding tomorrow and full days," said Percy. "We've done it before."

Will's face hardened and paled at the same time. "No."

"I can handle it."

"A few hours, yes but with the extent of your injuries it could take up to twelve hours. It could be as torturous as being poisoned by Arachne."

Percy wondered if Will knew who Annabeth really was after hearing the reference. She wouldn't have admitted to anything, having only done so with Percy under extreme duress. Especially with how Will appeared to have been treating her; Percy gritted his teeth. Will had probably saved his life that night against the Elites when he was brutally overpowered so Percy shouldn't be mad but it was no excuse for his attitude towards her. He put his anger aside as Will continued to talk.

"There is a high chance you could die in the process of healing your injuries. I won't partake in that."

"It's my choice, Will." Percy and Will stared at each other, each assessing, each unrelenting in their position. "How long will it take for you to make it?" asked Percy.

Will cast his eyes down, sighing. "Maybe an hour," he admitted. "I will need to purchase a few ingredients and speak with Clara about the others."

"Then do it."

Will strode to the doorway, pausing when he reached it. "I will do this for you, because I know if the roles were reversed you would for me but I'm against it. My mind won't change on that."

Will's prediction of an hour was acutely accurate. Percy could hear the murmur of several voices outside his recovery room during that hour, but no one entered the room. He kept his eyes closed, feigning sleep so he wouldn't have to try and defend his decision. That didn't stop the worried glances he felt from the doorway, or the pain he still felt from his recovering injuries. He could do this; he could withstand just a little more pain. He kept telling himself that, over and over, until Will's familiar footsteps entered, Clara following.

"Will told me of your request," Clara informed him. "I don't condone this."

"Neither does he," he replied with a grin. "But he knows I will do it regardless."

Clara continued to look troubled. "I understand if it was only for minor injuries but Percy, the strain on your heart would be severe. Even if you managed to recover there could be long term effects."

"I'm aware of risks," he assured her, watching Will as he stirred the concoction. The tension hadn't left his shoulders since Percy's request.

"You'll never be able to do this again," she told him as Will placed the spoon on the table, bringing the bowl over.

Percy eyed the golden liquid, inhaling its unique aroma, his stomach already recoiling slightly. For Annabeth, he thought quietly, bringing it to his lips and taking it in two big gulps. He tried not to shudder or wince as the liquid hit the back of his throat. Clara looked worried, Will impassive as he took the outstretched bowl.

"I hope she's worth all this pain," he said bluntly.

Annabeth is worth everything, Percy thought as he closed his eyes.

* * *

"How's the fatigue?" Will asked Percy.

"I'm pretty fatigued of this conversation," he replied lightly, trying not to roll his eyes as Will gently prodded his temple, ignoring the jibe.

"Nausea? Headaches?" he pressed.

"I do have a headache," he said thoughtfully, rocking back out of Will's probing. "He's been riding beside me for the past couple of days. Constantly asking questions, never letting me rest."

"I wonder how that attitude will treat you when you're on death's door," remarked Will.

"I'm sure whoever I meet there will find it refreshing," he grinned and winked.

"And if it's Annabeth?" Percy clenched his jaw, turning away from Will's inquiring stare. "How are your ribs?" he continued.

"Fine," answered Percy in a flat voice. "They're sore but manageable. My muscles aren't feeling as weak as they did, and my hands have stopped shaking." He glared at Will as he nodded and rose to his feet. "That was a low blow."

Will's smile was placid as he took his spot on the other side of their fire, lounging on his bedroll. Percy sighed and shifted, ignoring the dull protest from his ribs. The concoction, Nectar, as Will called it, though tasting terrible and causing an immense amount of pain and strain, had the after-effect Percy had been hoping for. He was able to pursue Annabeth the following day, Will accompanying him to ensure he didn't wear himself and Blackjack out in his pursuit. It meant that Chris and Clarisse had to return to the village to alert the others of the unfolding situation and the reason three of their members wouldn't be returning as promised. The colourful language that spewed from Clarisse's mouth after the realisation she would yet again be missing out on a fight even shocked Percy.

"What was it the girl gave you?" queried Will. "I didn't think she ever spoke to you."

"It's not for me," he murmured, eyeing the keepsake he kept secured in his bracer.

He fingered the end jutting out near his wrist, letting the material slip back into place. Clara's daughter was a nervous sort from what Percy noticed in their only meeting, but she gathered enough courage to approach a man she had only seen on a sick bed, demanding he give his travel companion a token. Percy listened to her high-pitched demands, a smile coming to his face, reminded of another. He wondered whether Annabeth had looked similar when she was the girl's age, that stubborn stance and the wanting to appear intimidating expression. They certainly looked familiar, which made Percy think this girl had been watching her very keenly during their stay.

It became more apparent when he spotted a knife in the girl's possession. Hanging from the girl's worn belt, he could see an 'A' carved into its hilt. So, Annabeth wasn't the only one who had left an impression, if she had been willing to part with one of her weapons. It made his smile broader when he realised how different this Annabeth was to the one he met. The Annabeth he had met wouldn't have bothered with a trivial thing as humouring an admirer. She would have scoffed and ignored her. Then again, she would've left Percy to die and joined her brethren so a lot of things would have been done differently.

The girl blushed and ducked her head shyly when Percy knelt and agreed to her request, that blush deepening when she admitted she didn't want Annabeth to forget her. He assured her that she wouldn't and would treasure her token. He didn't tell her that she may never receive the girl's token, that she may never get to see her again because he had to believe she would. If she did escape the Cave, he would bring her back, even if he had to drag her, so the girl could see her idol again.

Will shook his head as he put it together, taking a long draught of from his canteen. "You know the chance of her returning is slim," he told Percy.

"When Nico went into the marshes," Percy started causing Will to frown. "Did you give up waiting for him to return?"

"It's not the same situation," he disagreed.

"How long did you wait, even when he didn't check in when he was supposed to?"

"Two weeks," Will admitted grumpily. "Again, it's not the same or do you love her? Oh Percy, no," he added when his question was met with silence. "Out of everyone –."

"I don't know, alright," he snapped back, running his hand through his hair. "I don't know," he repeated in a softer tone.

His admission ended their conversation for the night but didn't end the swirling thoughts going through Percy's head. It was a simple question, was it not? Love or just a mere attraction? He thought of her constantly, saw her in his dreams, was that not love? But those dreams … they were a side effect from the Crystal. Couldn't they just be homing in on her images because of where he was, what he was doing? It had happened before. Could he be mistaking that for an attraction?

No. That kiss after the first Elite skirmish still had Percy's hands aching to hold her, to run his fingers through her curls, across her waist and up her back, securing her to him. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel her lips against his, remember the smell of sweat, blood, dirt and the underlying fragrance that was entirely Annabeth. It was intoxicating, that fragrance, making that ache to see her, hold her, almost unbearable. No, he was definitely attracted to her, but was it more?

Percy wouldn't have an answer to his dilemma for the remainder of their ride to the Cave, his thoughts taking on another problem. He could feel it, the pulse of the Cave, the way it sung its warning to all who dared to venture forward. It was worse than he predicted. His breaths shortened, his heart rate skyrocketed, his limbs shook, and he had to constantly keep his fear from overwhelming him. As they came closer to the entrance, Percy realised with a sinking heart that he would have never been able to go with Annabeth.

They paused on a ridgeline, an invisible boundary that the horses recognised and would go no further. Percy clenched his jaw, sweat forming on his temples as he leapt down from Blackjack and surveyed the entrance of the Cave. It was quiet, no other party or faction in sight but Percy didn't think they would stand in the open for all to see. He was wanting, no, hoping, to see someone else emerging from the Cave; if not emerging, then waiting outside. Waiting, he was embarrassed to admit, for him. But that wasn't her.

There was a subtle shift behind them, and Percy swivelled, sword out and ready to defend. Will, similarly, drew his bow, arrow aimed at the source of the noise. He was being sloppy. In his rush to see what happened to Annabeth, he had let his other senses slip. Chiron would be disappointed. Luckily for the two of them, their new arrival emerging from the shadows was an ally.

"I wasn't expecting you," remarked Nico, storing away his knife. "Not for another few days anyway."

"Percy took Nectar," Will explained, frowning at Percy briefly. Nico raised his eyebrows. "Against my opinion. He's lucky to be moving at all. The strain on his heart was near fatal."

Nico hugged Will quickly, the corner of his lips lifting in a half smile as he took in his partner. When he turned to Percy, that smile faded, causing Percy's heart to drop.

"How long?" Percy croaked, bracing.

Nico looked hesitant to answer, only doing so when Percy repeated his question with a harder tone. "She went in two days ago."

Percy turned away, closing his eyes in a grimace. Two days. He didn't know how long he was trapped within the confines of the Cave before he managed to stumble out, but he couldn't believe it would've been that long. Breaking down and giving up weren't going to help her get out. Could he go in after her? Unlikely, but what could he do?

"Has anyone else gone in?" he asked.

"Not that I've seen," said Nico, glancing towards the entrance. "But I haven't been monitoring it exclusively. There are at least four different factions watching along with us. Two are bandit camps, one a religious cult and there's another but I haven't been able to get close enough to them to see who they are." He gave a sideways glance towards Will, one Percy didn't miss, nor did he miss the subtle stiffen in Will's shoulders. "Another half dozen or so are coming up the ridge or set up camp not too far away."

"Luke?"

Nico shook his head. "A large encampment is settled to the east. There's a town a day's ride from the camp. Judging from the colour of the flags, I'd say that's him."

"Makes sense," said Percy bitterly. "He'll wait there while his fighters do all the work for him."

Percy pushed down his anger, staring back at the entrance. He was one of those fighters, a long time ago. His anger wasn't going to help Annabeth,

"I know you don't want to hear this," said Will, his tone careful. "But I think you need to face the reality that she's not coming back."

Percy clenched his jaw. "Just a few more hours," he declared silently.

"Perce …" Will continued, frustration biting at his tone.

"Leave then," he snapped. He faced the two of them. "I'm not making you stay."

"Your judgement is compromised. Leaving you would have repercussions none of us need right now."

"What did she do to you?" Percy demanded.

Will's eyes narrowed. "Aside from all the trouble and deaths her mission has caused?"

"It wasn't hers!"

"She agreed to it!"

Percy growled as Will scowled, hands tightening on their weapons the longer they glared at each other. Nico placed a soft hand on Will's shoulder and Percy felt a spark of jealousy. Not romantically, merely for the fact Nico had sided with Will's argument.

"Fighting each other won't –," he began but he froze. His eyes widened in surprise. He wasn't gazing at Percy but beyond him. Percy turned and was running towards the entrance before Will could utter a shocked curse.

There were times Percy recalled in his life that truly floored him. His mother dying, his acceptance at the Elites, the betrayal from his best friend, the family that he had made since, but never had he been more so when he saw Annabeth stumble from the Cave.

Stumble was being generous. She could hardly stay on her feet. Knees and palms scrapped the ground as she struggled away, her chest heaving with uncontrollable sobs. Percy, if it was possible, quickened his already blinding speed towards her. She stumbled again but this time Percy caught her, sinking with her weight to the ground. His heart, already pounding loudly, lurched at the sight of the blood trickling from her nostrils and ears, even the corners of her eyes were red, though her tears had washed that blood away. She looked exhausted, crumbling into Percy as he held her, her dry sobs continuing to rattle her body.

The hilt of his sword was digging into his hip, his left leg was caught awkwardly under his body and he had an itch forming on his nose but none of that mattered because she had returned, she had escaped! Percy's eyes raked over her, checking for any further injuries, relieved when there wasn't any, concerned when she looked so thin, so frail from two days under torturous conditions. How much damage had she sustained? How much of the Annabeth he had grown fond of had been shredded, peeled and torn away in that cursed Cave?

Nico and Will were behind him. He could sense that but even he couldn't ignore the sound of a surprised sucked in breath. He looked up and then to beside Annabeth, almost recoiling. She had done it. She had fulfilled her mission. The Crystal, which never was a 'crystal', but a golden dish made of a material Percy never knew nor cared to know, lay beside the two of them, slipping from Annabeth's fingers when she fell into Percy's arms.

"Perce," said Will, crouching down on the other side.

He held his hands out placatingly, edging closer but Percy snarled and drew Annabeth and he away, not trusting him to treat her just yet. Will seemed to understand, withdrawing and rising to his feet. Percy could hear their murmurs but didn't care what they were discussing, not when the girl in his arms was stirring. Her sobs had stopped, and he could see she was taking deep breaths to get back some control. Her eyes stared in front of her, at Percy's chest, before making their way up to his face, taking in every detail, slowly losing their glassiness.

"Are you real?" she asked. Her voice was so soft, so weak, so fatigued. It crushed him to hear.

She brought a shaking hand up and her fingers brushed his cheek, to assure herself it wasn't one of the Cave's mind tricks. He leaned into her touch, pressing her palm against his cheek and jaw. He closed his eyes, revelling in the sensation of her touch. His smile was watery but hoped it was consoling. He brought one of his hands up, brushing a stray lock behind her ear, gently caressing the side of her face after.

"Yes, I am real, and I am here," he told her, squeezing her gently. "As are you."

She closed her eyes and collapsed against his chest. Percy held her close, his cheek pressed against the top of her head, taking deep breaths as his relief settled.

"Thank the stars that guided her home," he said gratefully, briefly lifting his eyes to the sky as he repeated a fisherman's wife's blessing his mother used to say.

He had forgotten those words for the longest time but holding Annabeth in his arms, he knew exactly how his mother felt all those times he would come home late, banged up and bloodied or stumbling and passing out before he reached the threshold. How she would worry, and he would always joke and brush the incidents aside. He closed his eyes, feeling the familiar ache of pain and loss. He missed her terribly.

Percy turned his attention elsewhere, his eyes falling on Nico, whose expression was grave. His knife was in his hand, his eyes scanning the trees in-between gazing at the ground beside Percy and Annabeth. He followed his gaze, his stomach churning at the sight of the Crystal. How she managed to control … He despised that object, despised it above everything else. And yet, there was something, odd. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it felt, different, not the same as before.

"Percy …" Nico said, eyes continuing to search for threats.

"I know," Percy replied. With a grunt and a bit of manoeuvring, he rose with Annabeth in his arms, gazing around for the first time. He looked at Will, his jaw set in a hard line. He would need to check Annabeth over, make sure there had been no permanent damage from her experience, but they needed to get a safe distance away from the Cave first; and Percy needed to get his anger back in check. He spoke to Nico instead, gesturing to the Crystal with a nod. "Grab that but cover it with something first. Don't let it touch your skin."

With a glance at Annabeth, he walked them away from the Cave, hoping it would be the last time he would ever step foot near it.


	15. Chapter 15

As always, these characters do not belong to me.

**Chapter Fifteen**

The images were everywhere, and incoherent. Flashes, one after the other, trying to snag Annabeth's attention.

_Luke yelling at her, his eyes full of malice ... Reyna standing beside her, spear ready as she charged forward ... Will aiming an arrow at her heart ... Percy singing that awful shanty ... Luke crouched before her, offering a hand and place to sleep with a beautiful crooked smile that had her shyly reaching out ... A cloaked figure leading her through the streets, teaching her how to survive ... Percy fighting through bandits and calling her name ... A beautiful woman with dark hair pouring tea with a friendly, but strained, smile ... Arachne drawing her knife before running towards her ... A crazed Octavian shouting, spit flying from his mouth ... An older-looking Malcolm hugging her ... A small red-haired lady darting around a battlefield, arrows firing from her bow in rapid succession ... Percy shirtless, standing with his back to her staring out a window but glancing back and smiling when he feels her gaze ... Another black-haired woman, this time with electric blue eyes with short spiked hair, looking at her in concern ... Percy wan, lying unconscious in a bed ... Percy bleeding badly from an abdomen wound ... Percy saying her name as his breath faded ..._

Annabeth's eyes opened, a gasp escaping her lips and scratching at her already sore throat. Sunlight, sky, it was too bright. She blinked, confused. Where was she? How did she get there? Why couldn't she remember? She tried to calm her panic thoughts, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths, so many deep breaths.

Start from what she could remember. Luke set her a task. She needed to retrieve the Crystal, for him, for the Elites. She went with Percy at Luke's behest and they ran into all sorts of trouble; she could remember that. Octavian and his fanatics, Circe, Arachne, she recalled with a shudder, Drew and other Elites attacked them. Percy couldn't continue, he was hurt, and Annabeth had to leave him behind. It was harder to do than she imagined but if she didn't, then the violence would get worse. She had a new companion, Nico, and they had made it to the Cave. It was beautifully structured, and she walked through its walls and reached the chamber. The Crystal was a dish! A turned-out shield and she went to grab it and then …

Annabeth grimaced and groaned with the sudden throbbing of her head. That was the most powerful defensive mechanism she had ever encountered. As soon as she made contact, her head felt as though it had been split apart. Her body went numb as her mind screamed endlessly with the onslaught that attacked it so viciously. She thought she was going to die, she wanted to die, if that meant she could have some semblance peace once more. Roaring pierced her ears followed by a high-pitched screech. Her eyes were blinded and there was so much pressure in her head; she screamed and screamed, trying to dispel the pressure that just kept building and building …

And then it stopped. Or did it? It was still all so hazy. She was walking, or trying to, leaving, escaping. Something was in her hand, or was her hand just clenched into a fist? She was numb everywhere, it was hard to move, to think. She fell over, a lot. Something caught her and she felt, relieved, safe. She clung to that feeling, revelling in it. There was a heartbeat under her palm, a little fast but it steadied her, enough that she looked up and saw two beautiful green eyes …

Finding strength in that memory, she opened her eyes again. She didn't feel strong enough to sit up, but she could move her head slowly. It was still so bright! And there was green everywhere! A bird chirped somewhere nearby; the wind whistled lightly in greeting. She could breathe in the fresh air and it renewed some of her energy. Taking it slow, she sat up, taking a minute for the headache to dull before looking around and she almost sighed. A concerned Percy sat beside her, watching her every movement intently. He kept his distance, though it appeared to cost him every bit of willpower to do so.

"Drink this," he offered a small bowl that was steaming a little. "Will said it'll help."

There was tension in his jaw when he said this, and a small part of Annabeth was curious to know what had happened between the time she left and when they reached her ... Time. She looked closer at Percy. The bruises on his face were yellow, making his skin look odd and patchy, but at least he was healing. Gashes were sealed, no sense of pain in his movements … How long was she stuck in the Cave?

"You were in there for two days," he answered her silent question.

She frowned at the liquid in the bowl as she cradled it, trying to recall what had happened. A tear dropped, a ripple forming. Was it from frustration? Was it from pain? Was it from both? Annabeth, the person who usually had all the answers, had nothing, was nothing, could feel a hollow space that had been carved from inside of her and taken. No, not taken, but missing, suppressed. She took a sip before any more tears could spoil it.

Despite not feeling overly hungry, she drank the entire bowl, ignoring the dull burn in the back of her throat. She stared into the empty bowl as the blurry edges of her vision slowly started to clear. She accepted the canteen of water Percy handed to her next, letting the cool water soothe her dry throat. It was bright, but only because the sun was dipping under the horizon, directly into Annabeth's line of sight.

Two days. It couldn't have been that long. Two days of pain, of an assault no one should experience. But someone else did. Many others did and they couldn't handle it. She could now understand why, because she was almost like them. She almost succumbed to it. How did she think she was strong? Was she that proud to think she could conquer it? Why didn't she listen to Percy? More silent tears fell into the bowl.

Annabeth heard a rustle of movement beside her and she cringed, squeezing her eyes shut as a tentative hand fell on her shoulder.

"Annabeth," Percy murmured. "Whatever you're thinking, don't let it get to you. What you went through, would cripple anyone. _Has,_ crippled those who went through it." He took a deep breath and her shoulders shook. "I'll help, in any way I can, I promise. You don't have to face it alone."

That was it. Annabeth couldn't hold back the new round of sobs that racked her body. She crumpled, unable to hold herself up any longer. She curled in on herself, letting her tears fall freely, letting her anguish, her sadness, her defeat, be voiced for all to hear. But there was only one person who heard, and he wasn't leaving her to face it alone.

"I am here," Percy said softly, taking her into his arms. "It will be alright. I've got you." He repeated it over and over, soothing her tears and rocking her gently until she calmed. Exhausted physically and emotionally, Annabeth listened to his heartbeat, letting its rhythm lull her to sleep.

* * *

_Percy standing before her, waiting to see what she would do next as his heart thumped rapidly under her hand at his chest ... Luke smiling encouragingly at her when she learnt how to fight ... Clarisse smirking before bellowing out a challenge to the bandits ... Drew's eyes glittering with malice as she sent her Elites to engage her ... Arachne sacrificing the Athenian at the altar ... Annabeth's hands covered in blood ... _

The last image was burned into Annabeth's mind as her eyes flew open, heart racing. Her headache was uncomfortable but not quite as fierce. She exhaled, gazing down at her hand. Pale, a bit dirty but not bloody. What did it mean? What she going to do? Whose was it? She flexed her fingers, sighing lightly at the normalness of the movements. She placed it back down where it was resting, which was against someone else's chest. She flinched and sat up, her wide eyes meeting Percy's as he surveyed her. His hand fell from her back and she blushed, realising where she had fallen asleep.

"Annabeth?" he asked cautiously, his hands out placatingly.

"I, I just need to, I just need a minute," she finished, rising into a seated position. She heard Percy do the same, just as she clutched her head with the throb of a newly forming headache.

"You look pale. Is it another headache? Will mentioned something about them," Percy added, catching her expression. "Do you want me to get him?"

"No, I can, control it," she said through clenched teeth. "Just another second." Her headache slowly began to dissipate but stubbornly sat behind her eyes.

"Can you remember what happened?" he asked tentatively.

"Um, pieces, but this headache is making concentrating difficult." She growled a little in frustration, one hand still clutching her temple. "I got in there alright, moved through the caverns and antechamber, which had some exquisite structural detail." Percy smiled a little at the reverence in her voice. "Made it into the chamber, saw the Crystal, and I touched it and then …" Annabeth flinched with a hiss in pain. Percy's grimaced upon seeing her reaction but didn't interrupt. She was grateful for that. She thought she saw a couple of shadows approach.

"I was so disoriented," she confessed. "I must've lost consciousness because one second I was standing and the next I was on the floor, struggling to my feet. There was blood, so stark on the stone floor. I think it was mine but there were other stains I didn't notice." She frowned, her memories stubbornly refusing to cooperate. She was missing a crucial piece. "I had it," she said in revelation. "I had it in my hands. I left with it. Where is it?" she asked Percy.

"Over there," he replied hesitantly, shifting aside so she could see it leaning against their bags.

It had been wrapped haphazardly in someone's cloak, one of its edges peeking out from underneath. Another memory came upon seeing the bundle. It was shaky, pieces still needing to be put into place, but her mind was slowly kicking back into some form of normalcy; or she hoped. She went to rise, her eyes entirely focused on the Crystal when she heard the tang of a bowstring, and instinct had her freezing.

"Annabeth," Will said calmly. "I'm going to need you to stay where you are."

"Will, what are you doing?" Percy asked in surprise.

"The Crystal shouldn't have left the Cave," was his response. "It's needs to be returned."

"Then we can discuss this without the drawing of weapons," Percy insisted.

"Not if she insists on the path she is taking," Will disagreed.

Annabeth hadn't moved from her crouch or looked towards Will. Her headache began to intensify, having her grit her teeth to prevent her gasp of pain. She rose, with some trouble, to her feet, raising her head to look at Will, who indeed had an arrow trained on her heart. Nico stood behind him, watching him and Percy, who she could feel bristling at her side from the threat directed at her. She looked into Will's crystal hard blue eyes. If he was anything like Annabeth, she knew he wouldn't hesitate.

Her head gave a fresh burst of pain, worse than before. She groaned, clutching her head with one hand, squeezing her eyes shut. As most of her thoughts dissolved with wave upon wave of excruciating nausea, she had one thought that cut through the haze and it made no sense: she had been in this exact scenario before.

"Her nose," observed Nico in shock.

She opened her eyes and placed fingers to her nostrils, pulling them away sticky with blood. She glanced up, her eyes falling on Will, who stood unwavering, though his eyes had widened in shock … but then there was two of him, then three. Her vision split, the three Will's standing beside each other, in the same position, with the same bow and arrow. Every so often the three would fuse together before separating with the pulse of Annabeth's migraine. They were saying different things, their voices reverberating against the other, making it hard for Annabeth to distinguish the individual words but her mind somehow translated them:

"Don't make me do this, Annabeth," one of them warned.

"Stop!" the second screamed.

"Control your breathing," ordered the third.

Annabeth felt as though her head was splitting like her vision. She crumbled to the ground, moaning out her pain, placing her hands to the sides of her head as if to prevent it from being ripped apart. She could hear more voices, Percy's and Will's, several Percy's and Will's, but they were warbled, fuzzy. Sweat formed on her temples, trickling down her back as she shook violently.

She turned towards Percy and like Will, there were three of him. They were all moving differently, again, just like Will. One Percy moved towards her, fear and pain written on his face, another charged towards Will and was shot. She almost screamed but saw when he fell beside her that the arrow was embedded in his shoulder; a hindering shot only. The third was still standing, wanting to go to her side but rooted on the spot, his hand outstretched and frozen. Were they reacting to the different Will's?

With a momentous effort, she turned her head and gazed down in front of her. Her hands were blurred, and if she didn't look directly at her chest, she could see an arrow buried into her heart. She panicked, thinking Will had shot her and she didn't notice but that wasn't it, was it? There were three Will's, three Percy's, what if they were three different Annabeth's as well? What was happening to her?

_Control your breathing._

Annabeth groaned again but listened to Will's phantom voice. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her pulse. She focused on that, just that, blotting at everything around her until she could get it under control. She didn't know how long it took; a second, a minute, an hour, but the pain in her head lessened enough for her to pick up the situation. Will and Percy were arguing, Nico trying to mediate but fail. It was about the Crystal, the damn Crystal.

"It's a not the real Crystal," she growled painfully. Everything went silent and foolishly she thought she had gone deaf. She shifted, relieved to hear the rustle of fabric. "It's one of replicas that sat at the feet of the statues," she explained. She kept her eyes closed, knowing if she opened them and saw multiple people again, she would be sick.

"So that's why it felt different," Percy revelled, snorting in surprise. She heard more movement, an exclamation of warning and then Percy confirming in wonder, "a fake." He snarled suddenly, but it was silenced just as quickly as it came.

"Open your eyes, Annabeth," Will instructed gently.

Unwillingly, Annabeth obeyed. Her hands were clenched into fists on her thighs, but they were no longer blurry. She exhaled slowly in relief, mustering the courage to lift her gaze, staring at Will, who had crouched in front of her, his bow slung over his shoulder. Those crystal blue eyes lost their hard gleam, in its place a healer's appraising look.

"How many can you see?"

"One," she answered, wondering how he knew. "But, you're blurry at the edges." She pressed her fingers to bridge of her nose, opening them again to find the same result. She could only imagine what Percy and Nico were thinking hearing their bizarre conversation.

"No, that's good," he assured her. He even smiled encouragingly at her. She must have looked bad. "That means the outcome has become more precise."

"What does that mean?" Percy demanded, striding forward. "You know what, never mind that. _How_ did you know that?"

Will ignored him. "The dose I gave you mustn't have been enough," he said, mainly to himself as he placed the back of his hand against her forehead. "I underestimated the potency. You will need to take more if we're to suppress your exposure."

"Hold on," Percy said angrily, shoving away Nico's restraining hand. "What are you giving her?"

"Something that will stop the headaches and nose bleeds. I can explain it to you properly but only after I tend to her. If she doesn't get treatment soon her brain will shut down from the pressure."

Annabeth chose then to wheeze out another painful moan, only confirming Will's diagnosis. With his anger temporarily dampened, Percy followed Will's instructions dutifully, though he made sure to never stray far from her side. Annabeth was placed half-sitting, half-lying against the spare saddle bags and bedrolls, the fake Crystal tossed aside and laying forgotten nearby. She pressed a cloth to her nostrils, her mouth clenched shut to prevent the contents of her stomach from regurgitating.

Explaining the need to control the new dosage so she didn't overdose, Will spoon fed the contents to her, gaging her symptoms every few minutes in-between spoonful's. She was horribly mortified, and she was sure her flushed cheeks Will commented on was due to her embarrassment rather than the medicine. After a quiet word, Percy and Nico withdrew some distance away, Percy giving her an understanding smile and Will a scowl before he did.

The mortification lasted about an hour and in the place of the headache came a heavy fatigue. Her limbs were lethargic, her eyes struggling to remain to open and focused. Considering the amount of trauma her body had been through in the past few days, it was understandable the backlash would be just as severe. She didn't have time to rest, not yet.

"Have any of you sighted the Elites?" she asked Will.

Will regarded her. "Nico spotted a sizable encampment to the east that he assumed was them. Probably take us a day to reach it."

"Alright." Annabeth got to her feet, shaking out some of the numbness.

"I'm not going to convince you to rest, am I," Will asked rhetorically

"Luke expected me with the Crystal a week ago." Will rolled his eyes. He mumbled something that Annabeth suspected wasn't polite, but she let it go. "You said yourself that all factions are on the verge of a full-on civil war. We need to at least try and settle them before it escalates beyond control."

"If you give Luke what appears to be the Crystal," Will began as Percy and Nico made their way back towards them. "It may pull some factions into line, but I don't see how placing it into the hands of any leader, real or fake, could achieve peace?"

"I'm aiming to subdue the small bandit and religious camps first. The larger ones may try to gain control of the Crystal, but the Elites will handle their attempts. Eventually, they will admit defeat and it should, theoretically, stem the flow of rising crime enough for the guards to get it back under control."

"You're forgetting Luke's ambition," said Percy. "He won't stop until he has control of everything. This mission of yours was about gaining his path for domination. You won't be able to change his mind," he said, reading her thoughts. "I tried, so has countless others. His ambition is too strong."

"I don't understand how word of my task spread," Annabeth mused. "It was a need-to-know mission."

"I think Luke has executed some other plans while you were away," said Will, a little grimly.

"Unless it was other Elites," said Percy, scratching some stubble on his cheek. "Trying to usurp him but again, I think that's unlikely. Either way, it has made the situation worse and we just need to deal with it. I don't think any solution we can come up with is going to be a good one."

"Which is why I need to get back to Luke as soon as possible," said Annabeth. She turned to Nico, heaving her bad onto her shoulder. "Can you take me to that camp?"

"Hang on," said Percy irritably as Nico went to grab his and Will's bag. "Are we just going to ignore Will aiming an arrow at Annabeth, and then somehow curing her? And what about all the stuff about the Cave he just happens to know."

"He's a guardian, Percy," said Annabeth, surprised he hadn't realised it. "What did you think his tattoo meant?"

"What tattoo?" he demanded.

Three sets of eyes went to Will, who sighed and pulled the collar of his shirt aside, revealing the tattoo Annabeth had spotted while he was tending to Percy.

"It's the same symbol on the statues," said Percy in awe. He rounded onto Nico. "Did you know about this?"

"He might've mentioned something about it when I asked," said Nico sheepishly. His cheeks turned pink and he avoided their gazes.

Percy smirked, giving him a light shove to the shoulder. He rounded onto Will. "Care to share?" he asked. Though his tone was light, his eyes still glittered with suppressed anger.

"We can ride and talk," said Annabeth, picking up Percy's bag and throwing it in his direction.

He scowled at her, grumbling under his breath as he fetched their horses with Nico. Annabeth could only imagine what Percy was asking him, judging by the way Nico's shoulders hunched and the bright red his face was slowly turning. Will took that time to appraise Annabeth one final time before they were leaving and to give her something to keep up her energy levels, so she didn't fall from her horse in exhaustion. She didn't bother looking back towards the Cave, knowing she never wanted to see it again. Nico took the front, Percy the rear, though he kept close as Will answered their questions.

He had been recruited by the Apollites after Percy's first brush with the Cave. Tasked as a Nomad, Will's objective was to travel through the different towns and villages, ferreting out any rumours or whispers about clans or individuals who were wanting to try their hand at stealing, not only the Crystal, but any of the many powerful artefacts hidden and preserved from human hands. Annabeth's interest spiked at the revelation, but Will quickly squashed her curiosity by refusing to disclose the locations of those he did know and warned her about trying to find the others. She relented but stored that titbit of information aside for after the mess they were in was over.

Nomads weren't the only occupation of the Apollites. Will mentioned that a special guardian was chosen to defend at the entrance to the location of the artefact, turning away those who slipped past the Nomads. Percy didn't recall such a guardian when he entered the Cave twice, Annabeth confirming that she too, wasn't stopped on her way in.

"We're losing numbers," admitted Will, his gaze forlorn.

Their leader had disappeared in mysterious circumstances and the guardians that went in search for him never returned. The Apollites were in disarray, a once proud clan reduced to working in the shadows. Their communication threads were tenuous and if a guardian had reached out for help, their call was often lost or delayed to the point that a Nomad answering the call was too late. Will had only realised the Cave's guardian was missing when he had met Percy and heard his tale from the others in their home village.

"And Annabeth?" Percy demanded, his expression dark. Annabeth knew he was thinking of the lives lost to their own greed, of the others he had tried to sway and failed because the guardian had gone missing and help hadn't come at all.

It was then that Will said something that surprised Annabeth. The Stolls had alerted him to an Elite travelling with Percy to steal the Crystal and he hastened to cut them off. He should've stopped her early in their venture, but he admitted to being distracted, his eyes glancing Nico's way for the briefest of seconds. He then told Annabeth and Percy that there were people destined to have the ability to wield, or in some cases, read, the artefacts. The guardians stationed at the entrances would know when the right person approached and would let them enter unhindered. When Annabeth asked how they knew, Will merely shrugged, unable to answer.

Upon meeting Annabeth, albeit bloody and manic trying to protect Percy, he could see she wouldn't be persuaded abandoning her task, but he theorised that maybe he wasn't supposed to try. So, he had let her go at the village, only to prevent her from leaving the outskirts of the Cave when it was clear she was not destined to own it. While he didn't apologise outright for threatening her, she could respect his reasoning; it wasn't the first time she had an arrow aimed at her and she was sure it wouldn't be the last.

All Apollites were healers, their knowledge far more superior to the standard physicians in towns and villages. Will had trained extensively and it was because of this that he had been able to concoct a solution to subdue Annabeth's side effects from the Crystal; that, and the knowledge handed from Apollite to Apollite. Answering Percy's question of potency, Will theorised that a guardian had administered Percy with the treatment and due to his delirium, simply forgot.

"Twice?" asked Percy sceptical. "I forgot about that twice?"

"Fine, you're special," said Will with a roll of his eyes. Percy scowled and Annabeth suppressed a smile.

"You mentioned the Crystal was one of the artefacts that could be 'read'," said Annabeth. "I don't recall seeing any inscriptions."

"That knowledge wasn't given to Nomads," said Will. "The one destined to read it will know how."

It was a lot to unpack. But at the same time, it made perfect sense. She had questions, a lot of questions, but Will had given her all he knew; the rest she would have to figure out on her own. So, the Crystal had a purpose besides a symbol of power. She doubted Luke, or the other bandit factions. The religious factions and cults may have some indication, but maybe not in its entirety, especially if they think sacrificing the guardians, which is what Annabeth suspected was happening to the Apollites, was the key. She thought of Octavian, his insistence on a sacrifice … he knew of its power, or to an extent, he had to. He was forcing people into its depths, but for what reason. To retrieve it? To appease the Cave itself?

"The headaches and nosebleeds, it's not a defensive mechanism, is it?" she deduced. Will shook his head, confirming her suspicion. "It's just, what, the Crystal is, how it works."

With talk exhausted for the night, they moved quickly onwards, only stopping for a few hours in the early hours of the morning. They continued with haste as the sun began to rise and coat the land in a warm glow. Percy became increasingly withdrawn as Nico led them closer to the camp, letting Blackjack drift further behind the group. Several small bandit traps and raids were set up along their journey, each avoided by Nico's skilful observation. Prepared for an ambush, Annabeth had one hand on her knife, surprised when none occurred as they halted with the camp just within sight in the morning light.

What felt like seconds later, Annabeth confirmed it was an Elite camp, though she had a feeling that they all knew that regardless, and she was preparing to part ways with her companions. It was strange, thought Annabeth as she surveyed the camp, to have such a large number of Elites outside of their compound. If Annabeth had to hazard a guess at the number of tents she could see, she thought their numbers had almost tripled in the months she had been away. That steep of an increase meant one thing; Luke was preparing for war.

She swung down from her saddle, double checking her bags. She didn't need to, and she knew she was simply delaying when she had to leave, but the others let her, and she wondered if they were reluctant to say their farewells as well. Joining her beside her horse, Will held out a small pouch of herbs, judging from the faint aroma. Nico and Percy had also hopped down from their horses, Percy looking interested in the condition of Blackjack's flank and the straps of his saddle, not glancing once in her direction.

"The images I saw," she began, accepting the small pouch handed to her. "Will they continue?"

Will looked thoughtful. "Maybe when your mind is at its most vulnerable state, like when you're asleep. You may feel some sense of déjà vu, but I'm sure the dose I gave you will put an end to the worst symptoms. It will be an echo of the sensation you had been feeling."

Annabeth nodded, relieved. The few hours of sleep she had gotten had been peacefully image free, but she had been unable to get the image of her hands covered in blood from her mind. She placed the pouch of herbs into her saddle bag, re-tying it and checking the security of the fake Crystal, knowing she couldn't put it off any longer.

"I never asked," began Will, giving her an excuse to stop. "What changed your mind?" His eyes drifted to the fake Crystal.

Annabeth followed his gaze, then glanced at Percy before back to Will. "Someone told me that the power of the Crystal wasn't supposed to be wielded by us." Percy tilted his head but didn't turn around. "I realised after I became conscious that he was right, but I knew that if I returned empty handed more will sent to retrieve it and I couldn't let them go through what I did."

"And if they know what power the Crystal possesses? They will know what you retrieved was a fake."

"You're beginning to sound as if you care," she retorted slyly, grinning briefly. Will wasn't amused. "I am hoping that they don't," she answered.

Percy snorted. "Are you sure you're Athenian?" he asked jokingly. Will and Nico looked surprised at the revelation.

Annabeth smiled; glad he sounded a bit more like himself. "Been spending too much time with an optimist, I guess."

He smiled briefly, before turning and striding away. She quickly checked she had everything on Silver Mist, again, biting her lip as she glanced towards where Percy was. Nico came up beside her, silently urging her to go. With a small but grateful smile, she went to Percy. He stood silently, gazing towards the camp with an unreadable expression. The set to his shoulders was tense, his jaw muscle flickering. Annabeth had already guessed why he was being so distant, but it wasn't until she stood next to him that she finally admitted it to herself.

He couldn't go with her. After only just being reunited, they had to part ways again. He left the Elites and there was something between him and Luke that was fractured beyond repair. If Percy was to walk into the camp with her, Luke would arrest him or kill him, and Percy was needed too much for either option. Hadn't they agreed to this from the beginning of their journey? So why did it cause an ache that was unfamiliar to Annabeth? She hadn't felt this way when she parted from Luke, but with Percy ...

She found herself memorising his face. The thick mop of black hair that appeared always messy but with a type of disorganised grace that Annabeth longed to brush back from his face or simply run her fingers through. That fringe hid the pale scar that marked his hairline but didn't seem to bother him. Nor did the splash of small freckles on his nose and cheeks that was only noticeable up close. Then there was the hard to miss green of his eyes that never seemed to dull, chiselled jaw with the slightest scar along its left side, full lips that were quick to smile and their touch that spiked Annabeth's heartrate to dangerous levels.

As she thought of his lips, suddenly he turned, grabbing her around the waist and kissed her fiercely.

"Do you remember the whistle tune I used to summon Blackjack after we escaped Circe's?" he asked her when he broke away.

Her startled brain took a few seconds to register what he said. "Yes, I think so."

"Good. I won't be far. I don't trust Luke and I think he's got other plans in place he hasn't disclosed with you, which I suspect you believe as well. If you need me, need me for anything, whistle that tune. Blackjack will be able to pick it up if I don't." He looked at her, waiting until she indicated she understood. He kissed her again and at least Annabeth was a little more prepared for it. "Remember, if you need me," he kissed her again. "Anything at all," another kiss. "Whistle." Annabeth was starting to get really disoriented and distracted as another kiss met her lips. "And I will come."

"Like my own personal call boy," joked Annabeth breathlessly, smiling a little dizzily from all the kisses. Percy's lips twitched but he was too intent on making sure she knew she had another option, an escape, to give her a witty response. "I will, I promise."

Percy nodded, his eyes revealing the worry he had tried to keep from her. She placed a hand against his cheek, her thumb running softly against his cheekbone. He closed his eyes briefly, those green irises softening when he reopened them. This time it was Annabeth leaning up, pressing her lips against his. The next kiss they shared was longer than the other small kisses, but it was too brief. There was a promise of future kisses in it, of passion and heat yet explored.

And cut short. Percy pulled away, his chest heaving. His eyes raked over her face, over her body, giving her one last crooked smile before walking away. Annabeth, breaths ragged, lips tingling from where his had touched, stared at his retreating figure, trying to convince herself she would see him again.


	16. Chapter 16

**As always, these characters do not belong to me.**

**Reader's be advised: Mild violence**

**Chapter Sixteen**

"Stop!"

Annabeth halted just outside the camp's entrance, raising her hands to remove her hood with careful movements. A horn blew loudly when she was in distance of the camp, announcing the arrival of a stranger so they knew she was coming but that didn't stop the tense anticipation of greeting a hooded stranger. She had not encountered all she did just to receive a spear to the chest by a skittish, inexperienced guard. Having leapt down from her saddle to approach on foot, Silver Mist shuffled restlessly at her side.

"Relax, Taylor," she told one of the posted guards, recalling his name only seconds before speaking.

"Annabeth?" Taylor asked confused, squinting as she moved closer. He raised his spear slightly as she came forward, but relaxed when he realised she was who she said she was. He even grinned at her. "Wow, you made it! I didn't recognise you in that weird armour and cloak."

"Take me to Luke," she said in a no-nonsense tone.

"Uh, uh, yeah of course," Taylor stammered.

He hastily fell in step with her as she entered the camp. Annabeth could feel the eyes of the Elites follow her as she strode past their tents and fires, hear the whispers start as word spread of her return. She stared down those who dared to look at her, keeping their attention on her instead of the cloaked package strapped to her back. There were many faces she didn't recognise, but they seemed to know who she was just by her reputation alone. Good. She didn't have the time to instil fear and respect.

Taylor was babbling away as he always did when he was nervous, which was whenever he was in her presence. It was a stroke of luck that he was guarding the gate. It meant she got all the information she needed with having to do nothing more than scowl and act proud and superior. Inside her stomach fluttered, her hands shaking with adrenaline that she could only control by clenching her fists and hiding them under her cloak.

It the short distance between the entrance and the centre of the camp where Luke's overlarge tent sat, Annabeth had learned that recruitment had started not long after she had left, many too young and inexperienced compared to the usual soldiers they usually accepted. Training had increased, as had patrols and raids on neighbouring bandit camps and cultist shrines. If a recruit resisted their training, they were taken away and if they returned, they were a loyal and obedient soldier. Some weren't seen again.

Then they were marching, unrelenting, stopping for only short periods so they would reach their destination at a hastened pace. The destination wasn't disclosed to the foot soldiers and most were exhausted by the time they reached their current camp. They had been stationed at the camp for a week; around the estimated time Annabeth had predicted she would retrieve the Crystal, though Taylor, being a grunt, didn't know that. They reached the edge of the soldier's tents that circled the central tent. There was a sizable space between the main tent and the others, Annabeth noted with some disapproval.

"Thank you, Taylor," Annabeth cut in over him explaining what meat they had to catch to put in their stews. "You can return to your post."

"Yeah, yeah, no sweat." He fumbled with his spear, tripping on the red cloak Luke insisted his fighters wore over their armour as he hurried back to the entrance. He glanced back to her several times as he left, his eyes quickly averting when he noticed her staring after him.

Once Taylor was well and truly on his way, Annabeth turned, striding forward through the no man's land in-between the other tents and Luke's. She assumed Luke's tent doubled as a command base, being its size nearly tripled the other general's tents and quadrupled the remaining foot soldier's. Two guards were posted at the entrance, standing beside flags bearing the Elite crest. They, like Taylor and his partner, stiffened at her approach, hands gripping their weapon hilts, only to relax in surprise upon recognising her. Their eyes widened as they took in her appearance, and only when she gestured impatiently to the tent flaps did one recover enough to open it for her.

"– mobilising here and here so we need to –."

Luke paused mid-sentence as Annabeth entered the tent, standing before the three generals he trusted apart from her. She ignored their looks of astonishment, her eyes marking the room with a steely gaze, taking it all in with a careful precision. She noted the lanterns hanging from the thick wooden beams to the expensive rugs she and the others were standing on, and then to the sectioned off area to her right where Luke would spend his nights. A figure hooded in a cream coloured cloak stood silently in the corner, shadows curling up around them so they almost blended into the tent walls. Not deeming whoever they were a threat, she brought her focus back to Luke.

He had always looked impressive dressed in his full armour, a gift from the previous owner of the Elite. He was even more so now, slightly bent over the table taking up the majority of the space towards the back of the tent, his hand placed on a particular spot in the map. He stood on a small raised dais, a big throne-like chair behind him. It made him appear taller and more powerful than the other generals; not that he needed help with that. He straightened at her arrival, taking in her presence with a cold calculation, as she did with him.

Something had changed within him. She didn't know whether it was the way he stared at her or the way he held himself, but she could just tell he was different to the Luke she had left. Sharper, more distant, but she realised she was no less attracted to him. That didn't change the fact he had lied to her; didn't change the fact he was after power and would do anything to achieve it. But her attraction for Luke was buffeted aside by a new growing attraction towards the one who waited for her outside the camp. It was him she thought of as she stood in front of the leader of the Elites, back straight and eyes hard. She showed no fear; only strength and power.

Without breaking eye contact with her, Luke gestured to the others to leave. They shuffled out, the last to leave catching Annabeth's gaze for a few seconds. While Ethan's look conveyed nothing to an onlooker, Annabeth could read it perfectly. Relieved she had returned, she had to be ready, he told her quietly. Being Luke's second-in-command, Ethan had sacrificed much for their cause, and earned a vote of confidence most strived for. His loyalty never wavered, but there was a genuine concern for their leader in that glance. Only the hooded figure stayed where they were.

When it was only Luke and Annabeth remaining, Annabeth ignoring the hooded figure for the moment, she moved forward but remained silent and continued to stare into his eyes. She detached the fake Crystal from her back, keeping it in her grip and wrapped carefully in Percy's cloak. Luke's eyes drifted down and for the fleetest of moments a desperate hunger flashed in them. He met her gaze again, and she hoped he could see her anger, her sense of betrayal. If he did, he didn't acknowledge it.

"Why did they know Luke?" Her voice was steel. She didn't need to shout to get her point across. She was in control. And she deserved answers.

Luke's expression didn't change, didn't give any hint away. "These things happen."

"Not to me," she disagreed. "I was careful. Covert, just like we agreed and yet I was hunted, ambushed, kidnapped because they needed to reach the Crystal first."

"You can handle a handful of thieves, bandits and fanatics," Luke scoffed. He didn't seem to care that she had been through an ordeal. Annabeth felt the sting and almost flinched, but she held firm.

"I want the truth, Luke," Annabeth said, unwavering.

His gaze hardened, his eyes narrowing a fraction. "You retrieved what I asked," he stated, nodding to the bundle still in her hands.

Annabeth deliberated smashing it in front of his feet, just to see what he would do. She had argued with him many a time but in the end, she relented to his decisions. She wasn't doing that anymore. Gone was the girly crush that had clouded her judgement when it came to him. He could see that and was determined to wrestle the control back in his favour. Relinquishing, Annabeth handed it over, knowing she had to patient.

"So, this is it then?" he murmured, entranced after shaking fingers unwrapped his prize, his eyes drifting over it with a careful inspection. His fingers glided over its surface. "And to think we were looking for a 'Crystal' when in fact it is this," he said in wondrous surprise.

Annabeth watched him warily, her eyes travelling to the still immobile figure in the corner who had shifted ever so slightly. Returning her gaze to her leader, she slowly drew her left hand to the back of her hip, ready to draw her hidden knife.

"It is so beautifully carved," he continued in reverence. "Crafted by a stone I cannot recall … This is truly a magnificent item, and it is all mine." There was that hungry gleam to his eyes Annabeth noticed before as he continued to rake his eyes over the Crystal. He glanced up to Annabeth, his face illuminated in a soft golden glow from its surface, causing his facial scar to look deeper and more menacing. "And it's because of you," he finished softly.

Luke turned his back to her, placing the Crystal on the table, his head slightly bowed. Annabeth's fingers edged closer to the knife hilt. Luke lifted his head slightly, tilting it in a way that suggested he was looking at the figure. If they were communicating, Annabeth had no idea what passed between them in that look.

"We've been betrayed," he said quietly, nearly sounding like the Luke she knew. Annabeth kept her face in its hardened glare, but inside her heart started to quicken as he met her gaze. "That's why they found out about our plans. When I lost contact with you … I had to be sure it wasn't you. I'm sorry," he added when she remained silent. He moved to her, placing his hands on her shoulders with a flicker of a smile. "I don't know who to trust. My doubt was misplaced."

Annabeth stepped away from his touch, moving to the small table that held jugs of wine. She poured one for herself, keeping him in her peripherals but he didn't move, only watched as she faced him again and drank a long draught. Withholding her grimace at the taste, she poured herself more. Luke smiled and nodded to himself when he realised what she was doing, what she was waiting for.

"I understand your, _frustration_," he continued, with slight amusement. "But I sent Drew and a party to escort you when I read your reports." His gaze softened, as did his voice. "I didn't abandon you."

"Funny, I never saw them," she lied easily, letting her anger hold the lie together and make it believable.

Luke frowned, then snarled and started pacing. "She volunteered," he muttered to himself. "I just assumed … She will be punished."

"All I had was Percy, your _friend_," she added, coating her words in venom. She poured another cup of wine. Forgive me, she thought silently. "You're lucky I even made it back to you."

Luke's head snapped to her. "Where is he?"

"No idea." Not a complete lie. "He bolted as soon as we got near the Cave. Too afraid to even go near it. Kept ranting about pain and madness and I was going to die."

Luke mulled over her answer, pacing again. Then he stopped, facing her. "Percy was many things, but he wasn't a coward." He took a step towards her. "He would never have left you at that Cave alone, especially if he thought it was dangerous." Another step. Annabeth tried not to take a back step, her jaw clenching as he stood directly in front of her, towering. "Did you two sleep together?" he asked abruptly.

"Of course not," she replied indignantly. Her heart raced at the thought.

Luke's eyes narrowed. "No?" he queried. "Percy can't resist helping someone in need, and damsels." His lips quirked in a dark smile. "Damsels were irresistible." Luke turned, taking a few steps away before facing her again. "Did he make you promises? He's made a few of those to women over the years. Always waits until they're vulnerable and swoops in, the perfect hero." He sneered.

"You're being absurd," Annabeth said, folding her arms over her chest. She tried to ignore his words, the hammering of her heart and the sickening lurch in her stomach. "If you were worried that I would be some hapless, mindless woman falling for his charms, why order me to find him?"

"It was important," Luke murmured. His eyes flicked towards the hooded figure. "You needed his insight."

"And that's all I got," she stated. Her anger resurfaced with his accusations. "I can't believe you would think I would put him over you. And that we're even having this conversation. I'm an Elite, one of the best. I know where I stand."

"You're right, you're right, it was foolish to assume," he said after a few seconds, plastering a smile on his face. "I'm curious, Percy never said what was in the Cave, only that it was an experience he wouldn't wish on anyone. He was the only one to get passed the barrier, until you. How?"

Annabeth's memories crippled her anger, and it was all she could do to not show her own fear and pain. She glanced away, her jaw clenching as her eyes drifted close for a few seconds. "It was not, pleasant," she admitted softly. "I would not be able to do it again." She took a deep breath, facing Luke who at least looked like he understood, up to a point. "Where do we go from here?"

Luke observed her, scrutinised her expression, her stance, her manner. A minute passed or two. Was he waiting for her to crack? To break down and admit to her faults. She didn't like this new, paranoid Luke. She didn't like being in his presence. She realised in that silence he hadn't been entirely convinced by her performance. She was treading on dangerous ground, with one misstep earning a fatal punishment. Shame he didn't get the true power he had wanted in the Crystal.

"Plans are already in motion," Luke said, business-like. He strode to the table. His eyes on the map and the place marks upon it. "The Crystal was the final piece we were waiting on." He glanced to her. "Your part is done, for now. A tent was set up for your private use for when you returned. Ethan would have organised a bath and food to be waiting for you. Your armour is also there so you can dispose of whatever hand-me-downs you are currently wearing. They are ill befitting someone of your statue. You will be called when you are needed."

Annabeth bowed her head at the dismissal, Luke signalling for a soldier to show her to her tent. She grabbed the jug of wine, which amused the leader of the Elites and followed her escort to a nearby tent, informing him that if tried to step foot into her tent she would chop off his toes. Once the tent flap closed behind her, shutting out the camp, she allowed herself to exhale in relief.

She placed the jug on the small table in the centre of the room, where her hot meal was waiting to be devoured. Her mouth watered, but she opted for a bread roll, tearing into it with her teeth as she surveyed her tent. It was sectioned off, similar to Luke's with an area with a one-man bed roll with only a couple of cushions to the right, separated by a flimsy lace curtain. To her left, a much smaller space was set aside for a steaming hot bath, which Annabeth didn't hesitate to enter after spotting her travel bags and ignored her armour hanging on a bust behind the table.

Sinking into warm waters, Annabeth moaned at the sensation, taking her time to get herself thoroughly cleaned and relaxed further into its depths. The grumbling of her stomach signalled the end of her bath and as she tucked into her meal, she thought over her reunion with Luke. She wasn't confident on her plan, even before entering the camp she had her doubts but now she was wondering why she had even called it a plan. It was stupid, reckless and futile.

Annabeth knew she didn't have to return to Luke, but she wanted to. She had wanted to see him again, just to know for sure where her heart lay. And she did. Of course, she did. And now? Now she was inside a camp with a leader, whose heightened paranoia potentially saw through her cleverly moulded Elite exterior. It was clear that Luke's trust in people had diminished in her absence and he was the type of man willing to do anything and everything to achieve his ultimate goal, making him a dangerous adversary. She had to tread lightly, gently weave her way back into his inner circle and try to appeal to what was left of his morality. Starting with learning what plans he had already construed.

The hooded figure from Luke's tent with the cream coloured cloak slipped into Annabeth's tent, standing before her. Annabeth rose cautiously to her feet, staring at the figure warily. Her knife belt was draped over the back of the chair, and she cursed when the hilt was out of an easy reach. The figure came forward another few steps, untroubled and unconcerned by Annabeth's stiff posture and suspicious glare. She was about to ask why they were in her tent when they spoke first.

"Hello Annabeth."

The figure removed their hood and Annabeth froze in surprise, her mouth almost falling open. Gorgeous red hair flowed to the woman's waistline, her face pale with a smattering of freckles across her nose with beautiful full red lips. Her eyes were a bright green but so different to the one's she was used to and longed for. Hers seemed to glow with knowledge and wisdom, as if one look at Annabeth and she could see all Annabeth was and would become. She could understand why Percy had fallen in love with her. Bitch.

"Judging by your expression, you already know who I am," Rachel added with a soft smile.

Even her voice was melodic and soft, enticing. How was Annabeth supposed to compete with that? And how did she know what Rachel looked like? She had never met her before, and Percy had never described her features to Annabeth the little amount he did speak about her, but she knew without any trace of doubt that this was Rachel. It had to be the Crystal. Her image must have been among the jarring number that bombarded Annabeth's mind. Had she seen this meeting and thanks to Will's swift healing knowledge, only residual flickers of it was left in her mind to tie Rachel and what she looked like together?

Rachel glided further into the tent, her eyes taking everything in. Annabeth remained where she was, following her movements as she inspected the eaten meal, the discarded armour beside the bath and ran her fingers across the Elite armour. Rachel stopped in front of her, her eyes drawing down, lingering on the addition tied to Annabeth's wrist before settling on Annabeth's gaze. What she was looking for, Annabeth wasn't sure, but it appeared she found it a few minutes later, a soft nod to herself the only indication. She glided away to a more respectable distance, before continuing to speak.

"I am leaving this evening, but I needed to see you before I did."

"What do you want?" Annabeth asked flatly, trying not to grab at the gift sitting on her wrist after it snagged her interest.

Rachel smiled knowingly at her tone. "I am not your enemy, Annabeth, nor your competition." Annabeth shifted uncomfortably, feeling a flush creeping up her neck. "Luke's words were false about Percy regarding the two of you. There will be a time for you two to flesh out those feelings without intrusion. I came to you this evening to inform you: a choice is before you."

"It's not one of those ridiculous cliché choices, is it?" Annabeth asked sarcastically, her heart lighter than minutes before.

"In a way," she said cryptically. "You must steel yourself. Fear seeks to cripple you, but you must not let it. Stand alone and it will defeat you."

Annabeth's stomach flopped. "Percy mentioned you had a knack for saying things that didn't make sense," she managed to get out.

Rachel smiled mysteriously again, pulling her hood back over her head. "Good luck, Annabeth. If things work out as I've seen, we will see each other again."

"That's it?" Annabeth demanded as she left the tent. "A half-assed warning about a 'choice'? You better have more explanations when _we see each other again,_" she half-called out. Annabeth huffed out her frustration, suddenly wishing she had stolen more wine.

* * *

Annabeth spent the next two days mulling over Rachel's strange words and behaviour, thinking of several theories to their meanings but unable to lock in a definite answer. She had a sneaking suspicion she wasn't meant to; not for the time being anyway. That didn't bode well with her, but in the whole scheme of things, jumbled words and glances weren't getting her back into Luke's good graces.

She had been unofficially exiled, but what gave her some comfort was that she wasn't the only one. Luke had retreated into his tent since Annabeth had given him the Crystal, refusing engagements with his generals apart from Ethan. Ethan only spent minutes in the tent before relaying his instructions to the other generals and some of the guards. It was hard to miss when Luke left the camp, with the call of the horn announcing his arrival and departure, but to where he went, Annabeth was yet to discover. Annabeth gleaned all this information by watching from a coveted distance, using the training pits as an excuse to watch.

Well, partly. She needed to get re-used to fighting in her old armour and see what the recruited soldier's skills were. As Annabeth sparred and picked her way through those brave enough to nominate being her opponent, she saw they were sub-par at best. Word spread quickly through the camp that one of the best fighters had returned and many were eager to learn or simply watch as she went through the motions of her training until her muscles sang and she was so tired she could forget Rachel's haunting words, if only for a few minutes.

Ethan, when he wasn't assigning duties to generals or checking on the Elites, watched her from a wooden post, the right half of his face always in shadow. Not that he was self-conscious of the crippling injury that left him with only one eye and a savage scar on the right half of his face but she admired the way he could position himself so it didn't appear so harsh. She would meet his gaze, silently demanding answers that he couldn't or wouldn't give, only sharing a look that urged her to be patient.

In the quiet times of the night, when only the patrols were up and the rest of the camp was silent, Annabeth's thoughts would often go to Percy. She missed him, more than she had with anyone else. Several times as she drifted in and out of a restless sleep, she considered sneaking from the camp to try and find him, only to dash the thought out of sheer lunacy. She half-expected him to infiltrate the camp to see her, regardless of the risks and woke up disappointed that he hadn't. It was foolish she knew, but that didn't stop her recalling the feel of his arms circling her sleeping body or their parting kiss, adding to the many reasons for her lack of sleep.

Annabeth was summoned in the early morning on her third day back with the Elites. She dressed swiftly, careful to tuck her token into the top of her left bracer so it remained safe and out of sight. A gift she hadn't expected but now treasured almost as much as her knives, she marvelled at the effect it had on her, and of its owner who she only spent a couple of precious days with. While she had to give credit to Percy for changing her perceptions, it was the young girl with her foolish idolisation that cemented her newfound belief into something tangible. The white bandana that had once rested atop of the young girl's fair hair now wrapped around her wrist reminded her what true compassion could achieve.

Joining her escort outside her tent, the sun had yet to rise fully but the sky was beginning to light. Only a handful of Elites were awake, some yawning and grabbing a bowl of broth before heading to their guard duty or patrol, others shuffling tiredly towards their tents. They bowed their heads respectfully at the sight of her armour as she followed the guard not to Luke's tent like she expected, but towards the front entrance.

Luke, Ethan and the two other generals were waiting for her, sitting astride their horses. Annabeth's suspicion flared, years of instinct warning her not to go with them, not to leave the confines of the camp unless to flee. Luke read her wariness, but said nothing to her silent questions, gave no half smile as he used to, no assurances or praise. There was nothing encouraging in this new Luke.

Annabeth almost hugged Silver Mist when she was brought to her side, saddled and ready to leave. Sensing her rider's discomfort, the horse flicked her mane, stomping at the ground. Annabeth laid a reassuringly hand on her neck, gently strumming her fingers up and down until they were both calmer. Feeling his gaze, Annabeth saw Luke watching her with what appeared to be a mixture of amusement and hatred.

"Come," was all Luke said when she jumped up onto Silver Mist's saddle.

Having no choice but to obey, Annabeth urged Silver Mist forward, falling in beside Ethan as the horn sounded, alerting the camp to the departure of their leader. The ride wasn't far, bringing them to another crudely made camp as the sun reached toward the highest point in the sky. Thick wooden spikes marked the enclosed space, Elites standing guard at the entrance. Luke slipped from his saddle and was into the camp in one fluid motion, Annabeth and the others falling in behind. She met Ethan's gaze, who offered little information. Something was wrong.

It was a prison camp. Six men were kneeling in the centre of the camp, all but one with their hands bound at their backs. The five that were bound had injuries varying in severity, but they all were conscious and watching their guards with dull but hateful eyes. Tattoo markings lined their faces and bare arms, saying to Annabeth they were fanatics, but the blood and heavy bruising made it difficult to distinguish which religious faction they were pledged to. Luke regarded the prisoners with a mix between mild amusement and severe disgust.

"Any change?" he asked the closest guard without taking his eyes off the bald fanatic in the middle. By the way the fanatic stared back and the severity of his injuries, he was the most resistant to his capture.

"No sir," the Elite answered, shaking his head. Annabeth didn't recognise this Elite, or the others that were guarding the camp.

Luke nodded, clearly expecting the answer. He strode forward, removing his cloak and pulling from his back the fake Crystal. Annabeth took in a deep breath, her eyes darting between Luke and the captives. The captives eyed the Crystal but made no remark or outward sign, frustrating the Elite leader who was clearly hoping for one.

"I come before you with this token and my Elites so you can behold the beginning of your new life," he told them. "You have been given a chance only a few will be given in the changing of the tide. Pledge your loyalty and declare me your new leader and you will be released."

Annabeth took in the expressions of the captives, heard the fists of the surrounding Elites thump into their chest plates, his name a deep cheer on their lips. He smiled at his soldiers, soaking in their loyalty and devotion, though his eyes remained cold. Surely Luke knew that fanatics were unlikely to abandon their religion, so why was he offering it to them? There was something else at play, something Annabeth wasn't privy to, which made her nervous.

The bald man rose unsteadily to his feet. Luke halted the guards with a raised hand, eyes glinting at the rebellious gesture from the fanatic. The man stared at Luke, then deliberately spat blood at his feet.

"You are no leader," the bald man snarled. He grinned, blood running down his chin. "We already have our new chosen leader, and he will bring the favoured into the light. You are a mere pretender with false totems." The fanatic started to laugh, and the sound made the hairs on Annabeth's arms ride. Something about his words snagged at Annabeth's mind. "He will come for you," he threatened a stony face Luke. "He will come for you all."

The man was still laughing when Luke ordered the closest general to execute him, his head falling from his body and tumbling away, his body following suit, but his final words caused a frenzy amongst the other fanatics. Some began chanting, their words inaudible over the hysterical laughter of one fanatic and the screaming of another. They were all silenced in the same fashion as their fellow companion; all except one prisoner.

At the end of the line knelt a middle-aged man, who didn't appear in any distress or fanatical like the others. He hadn't been beaten or bloodied, meaning he hadn't resisted his arrest. Annabeth took in his pale loose clothes, the bareness of his feet tucked under him, hands splayed out from his sides, almost as if he were meditating. He opened his eyes at the silence, scanning each of the general's faces before settling on Luke.

"You will not change my mind," he told Luke in a quiet but clear voice. "Nor any of my kin. If this is what you deem is necessary, then I will not stop you. May you find your peace."

Luke sneered at the man's words and he gestured for the guard to move forward. Annabeth intercepted him, ignoring his gaze as she firmly pushed his arm away from the man. She could feel the man watching her, all the occupants in the camp watching her, but she kept her focus on Luke.

"Why are you doing this?" Annabeth demanded.

Luke's eyes glittered dangerously. "The same reason as the others. He refused to see me as his new leader," Luke spat out. The man, silver in his beard, kept his calm gaze on her, unflinching at the hatred in Luke's voice. "Even after I proved I was in possession of the Crystal." Annabeth's eyes flickered to the fake Crystal, still held protectively in his hand. "An example needs to be made of those who refuse to fall into the new regime."

She didn't like where this was heading, and she didn't like that she had been brought in to witness it. "This man is from a peaceful colony," she said. "He is no threat to us or our cause."

"To let one man question my rule is to let all question it," Luke said through clenched teeth.

He strode to her and pulled her knife from its sheath, flipped it over and offered it to her, just as he had done all those years ago when she was on the streets. But there was no smile on his face now, no promise of a better life. Only a burning fury at his leadership being so flippantly dismissed.

"I order you to kill this man," he told her.

Annabeth let her eyes drift to the knife, then back to his gaze, her heart in her throat. "You can't kill everyone that refuses to see you as their leader," Annabeth argued. She was glad her voice was steady.

"You're questioning my orders?" Luke asked with narrowed eyes.

"I'm, _questioning,_ whether you have thought of the repercussions of your actions," she countered. "You're asking many religious colonies and nomads to discard years and generations of single-minded thinking. That will take more than a few days, don't you think?"

"Don't be so condescending to me," he threatened angrily.

"Give them time to see you as your Elites see you," she pressed. "If you start by murdering non-believers, that is all they're ever going to see you as."

The tension in the camp skyrocketed at the silence that followed. She had backed Luke into a corner with her arguments and there was no way he could dispel that. He didn't break her stare, and she was hopeful to see that he was at least considering her words. Was the old Luke still in there?

"No," he told her quietly before stating loudly. "They see me as their leader now, or they forfeit their lives. Starting with this man." He thrusted the knife towards her again. "Show them the might of the Elites." When Annabeth hesitated, he grabbed her hand and forcefully placed the knife in her grasp.

Time seemed to slow down. Annabeth could feel her heartbeat in her chest, thrumming in time to the ringing in her ears. She could feel her eyelids close over her eyes in a blink, her free hand shaking with her adrenaline. Why did she have to be affected by this order? She had executed bandits, cultists, deserters before. This was no different; it had to be no different. She could make it quick, as painless as possible, for both of them.

Her eyes drifted down to her hands and there, poking out from underneath her bracer, the corner of the white bandanna, the partially stitched 'E' just visible. She paused, unable to take her eyes off the piece of fabric. Tears marred her vision as she thought of the little girl, of her eager smile and shining eyes as she learnt how to defend herself. Annabeth closed her eyes, her grip tightening on the hilt. What would she say if she saw what Annabeth was about to do?

"Annabeth, member of the Elites, you are commanded to serve your leader and kill this man," Luke stated impatiently.

The man looked up at her serenely, waiting patiently for her verdict. She would pay for this, and the man probably would as well. The man's eyes softened, seeing her decision in her gaze. He gave her a small knowing smile and made a subtle gesture with his hand. Recognising the gesture as one of respect, Annabeth bowed her head.

Taking a step back, she glanced directly at Luke and deliberately stowed her knife away. Luke's eyes narrowed at her defiance and she could feel the surprise amongst her Elite brethren. Without taking his eyes off her, Luke strode forward, snatching the sword of a nearby general and cut the man's throat, his blood splattering at her feet.

"Such potential, wasted," he spat out harshly. He stood directly in front of her, eyes running down her body, causing her to clench her jaw. "I didn't want it to be true, but instincts never lie."

So, it was a test. A test of her loyalty and she had failed. And it only angered and fuelled her stubbornness.

"I gave you everything!" he shouted. "A home, clothes on your back, a purpose! And this is your repayment? Discarding everything you were for a deserter with no morals!" He was goading her, demanding answers for her insubordination but she remained silent, scowling at him. His snarl darkened. "Escort her to her tent," he ordered in a hard voice. Four guards flanked her in seconds. "Keep her there until I decide her punishment."

Annabeth followed her guards without a fuss, not even bothering to acknowledge the presence of the other Elites. She tried to sit as regally as she could on Silver Mist, her demeanour conveying all that needed to be spoken. She was glad at least they hadn't decided to bind her hands together, as their return to camp was announced by the horn. Two of her guards took the tent entrance and the shadows indicated the other two were at the rear of the tent in case she tried to escape.

Letting out an explosive breath, Annabeth began pacing her tent, her fingers tracing her token every few steps. She wanted to scream, wanted to destroy the contents of her tent but she wouldn't give them the satisfaction. Willing herself to calm, she took a seat, placing her head in her hands, pulling them away to see them shake violently, clench them into fists and placed them against her temples. Her adrenaline was making her twitchy and restless, but she couldn't let it overwhelm her.

She was in trouble, but she wasn't ashamed by her decision not to kill the man. She was only guilty of not being seduced by a crazed leader. It was a test. A test of her loyalty and she had failed. She was in trouble, and by refusing to enact Luke's orders, had put her status as an Elite on very shaky ground. She wondered where Percy was and hoped that he could forgive her for not signalling him when she should have. She was in trouble, and death was the cost.


	17. Chapter 17

**As always, these characters do not belong to me.**

**Reader warning: Violence**

**Chapter Seventeen**

Annabeth was led from her tent a few hours later. The sun was starting to set, casting the camp in a yellow glow as her silent guards made their way through the other soldiers towards the centre of camp. Some Elites gazed at the precession curiously, but many were too caught up dressing into their armour. She didn't like that implication, but she didn't let them see her nerves or the way her hands shook, keeping her expression a stoic mask as they crossed no man's land and entered Luke's tent.

No Rachel, no generals, no Ethan were present in the tent when the flaps closed behind her and two of her guards. Only Luke stood before her. His armour was blood splattered, his expression cold as it settled on her, but not as cold as she felt. She could guess who the blood belonged to; more innocent lives who refused Luke's ultimatum or had he gone completely crazy and decided he would just kill anyone that he thought he couldn't control? Was she next?

He wanted a reaction from her. She knew that was the intention behind his bloody appearance before her. Depending on her reaction, he would either give her a second chance, cast her aside or kill her. Annabeth gave him nothing, merely stared at him. Not even when he threw something small at her, hitting her breastplate with a dull clink before falling at her feet.

"I collected that for you," he said conversationally. He casually cleaned his bloodied hands on a damp rag, tossing it onto the table behind him. "Thought you might be needing it to go along with your bleeding heart."

Annabeth lowered her eyes, taking a steadying breath when she recognised the necklace and its insignia through the heavy coating of dried blood. The man's face came to her mind, and the small gesture he gave her for sparing his life, even if it had been in vein. She raised her eyes, keeping her emotions hidden.

"Take off that armour," he snapped. "You don't deserve to call yourself an Elite."

Annabeth obeyed, untying the straps and letting her breastplate join the medallion at her feet, keeping her eyes on Luke, ignoring the feeling of vulnerability. She still had her knives, and she still had her fighting skill; there were some things that Luke couldn't take away from her, though that didn't stop him from trying.

"And that knife belongs to me," he continued. "I should like it back."

"It never belonged to you," Annabeth stated.

A corner of Luke's lips quipped. "So, you've found your voice at last. Guards, retrieve my knife."

"Let them try," Annabeth threatened as the guards moved forward. Even though Annabeth hadn't moved nor glanced in their direction, they hesitated. "The knife is mine, Luke."

Luke was amused by her statement, raising two fingers as he smirked, signalling his guards to stand down. "Fine, keep the knife. Anything else that belongs to you that you want to claim?"

"My choice not to execute an innocent man for the sake of your pride."

The amusement that had coated Luke's face moments before hardened. "You once used to do anything I asked of you," he said softly. "You were once proud to be called an Elite."

"That was when I knew our values. This new Elite group." Annabeth shook her head lightly. "This is not who we are supposed to be."

"We are better. Stronger."

"Are we? Slaughtering villages and forcing people to cower and fall into our regime is better?"

Luke's eyes narrowed. "These are Percy's words, not yours."

"They were Percy's warnings and I didn't want them to be true, but I can't deny what I've seen."

"Then why return?" he snapped to her. "Why give me the Crystal?"

"I gave you my word," she answered simply.

Luke scoffed. "You gave me a vow of loyalty. To follow my orders without question."

"I gave my loyalty to the Elite brothers and sisters and our vow of keeping peace and offering aid where it was needed."

"That is what we're doing," he reasoned. "We will make the world the better place by stamping out the different rulers and leaders and placing them all under one leadership. Will there be resistance to the change? Yes. Will we need to use violence to subdue that resistance? Yes. But the violence can be regulated if that's what you want?"

He moved toward her, grabbing her upper arms gently. His eyes softened, almost pleading with her. Her Luke was back, standing before her. Her heart ached at the sight.

"We can forget what happened today," he murmured. "I don't have to sanction your actions. You can wear your armour and follow me as you once did." He placed a hand on her cheek. "I can look after you."

Annabeth stepped away from his embrace. As seductive as his words were, she wasn't falling for his lies, not anymore. It would only serve him for her to remain an Elite and then she realised that was all it ever was with Luke. All his plans, all his actions, it was fuelled only by how it would benefit him. It was only in recent months that he had stopped trying to hide it behind lies, charm and seduction. Luke could see the shift in her gaze, his outstretched arms falling to his sides.

"Have you decided my punishment?" she asked flatly.

The old Luke vanished before Annabeth's eyes, the new one settling into his place. "This way," he said crisply, striding towards the entrance of his tent.

The guards closed in around Annabeth, keeping a tight formation so she couldn't even consider escape. The Elites had crowded around the edge of no-man's land as Annabeth was roughly pushed from the tent. She stumbled, glaring back to the guard before surveying her former brothers and sisters, their faces masked by the shadows created by the flame torches.

"We have a traitor amongst us," Luke called out to his brethren. He gestured dramatically to Annabeth, who responded with a hard stare. "Once one of our greatest warriors, Annabeth is charged with insubordination." Murmurs spread through the Elites. "Today she refused to eliminate our enemies, who had the potential to ruin our path to glory if not for our _loyal_ soldiers who leapt into action to dispel the threat."

Annabeth clenched her jaw to withhold her anger. She wasn't about to deny she refused his order but to implicate she abandoned them in such a way had her resisting the urge of grabbing the knife he was so pedantic about and throwing right into his chest. He glanced towards her, a glint in his eyes when he saw the effect his words had. She was so enraged by the lies that she wanted to scream, but it would only give Luke what he wanted.

"She has no remorse for her actions," Luke continued. "And it is with a heavy heart that I am tasked with laying down her punishment." He paused, dropping his head and sighing dramatically. He raised his head, looking into the crowd of Elites, taking his time to appear to be surveying them all. "I ask you, what do you think she deserves for her insubordination?"

Yells filled the camp. Jeers, insults and abuse was thrown towards her, but she took it all without a word. She even lifted her chin defiantly, even as her fingers twitched to get her hands on her knife and ask them to back their words with action. Luke savoured the building emotions around them, the scar on his face making his smile appear harsher; though she suspected the scar really had nothing to do with that at all. He lifted his hands for silence.

"She'll get what she deserves, but we will not stoop down and stain our hands with her unworthy blood," he told them. Annabeth narrowed her eyes. What had he planned? "You can have her," he said to someone with a wave of his hand.

Annabeth looked past him to his right as two figures emerged from the side of the tent. Her heart lurched in fear. The Mother of Spiders had a wicked grin on her face, victory plain in her statue as she surveyed her prey, relishing her fear. Annabeth took a couple of steps back into the rough hands of her guard, her breath hitching. Her eyes darted to Luke, who hadn't moved, staring cold and uncaringly at her.

"You think I didn't know who you were?" he seethed so only she could hear as the Elites welcomed the executioner half-heartedly. He sneered at the indignancy she had given him in thinking he was somehow naïve. "I knew who you were when I found you. The grubby, skinny street rat no one wanted. I knew if I simply gave you some inkling someone cared, you would do anything I asked. Having a gullible Athenian at my side was worth ten mercenaries. I certainly couldn't have achieved this without your blind loyalty. Shame you won't see what new world you helped create."

Annabeth felt tears spring to her eyes at the betrayal, her heart crumpling with her growing fear and pain. She was shaking, she could feel her fear taking over, just as it had at the Festival of Lights. The guards stepped away but that didn't matter when she was rooted to the spot. He had lied to her since the very beginning. She had been naïve and foolish. How could see even call herself an Athenian? What good had it ever done for her?

"When you went silent and I sent that insipid Drew and her cohort," Luke continued. "I couldn't take the risk she would fail and that you would inform Percy of my plans. I knew there was only one I could trust to ensure you would be found and remain silent. She was most _eager_ to meet you."

"You sent her after me," Annabeth stated. She recalled Arachne saying, 'the source was reliable!' at the Festival of Lights. Her surprise started to evolve, twisting as it mixed with her feelings of betrayal and fear. She pushed them all in together, morphing them into the one emotion that would ensure her survival; fury. "How could you?"

Luke raised his hands and shrugged. He looked at Arachne. "Do what you want with her, and oh, bring me back _my_ knife."

"Oh, I can bring you back more than that," Arachne relished savagely.

Arachne took two stalking steps towards her, drawing into her hand the wicked curved knife coated in her lethal venom. Annabeth cleared her mind and planted her feet, her hand resting on the hilt of her knife, her focus narrowing onto her opponent. And then a loud explosion rocked the camp, followed by a series of screams and cries. Heads swivelled, soldiers sluggish to react when a war cry roared through the explosion and the Elites were swarmed.

Annabeth was buffeted by soldiers as bandits rushed into the camp, cutting down all in their path. Luke's orders were lost in the commotion of screams and bodies, but obeying Luke didn't matter to Annabeth anymore. She killed two raving bandits that went for her, kicking a third towards another group advancing towards her before she remembered a more pressing threat. Arachne was trapped fighting several bandits with her guard, her black eyes fixed on her in between cutting down bandits with her deadly knife.

Annabeth fled, sprinting through the chaos and carnage engulfing her. Elites tried to rally but the number of invading bandits were almost overwhelming, thanks in part to their orchestrated surprise attack. She was pushed and battered by friend and foe alike, trying desperately to put as much distance between her and the central tent. Her progress was severely hindered as bandits attacked her one after the other, uncaring that she wasn't interested in fighting. She fought panicked, her fear a driving force behind each blow. She needed to calm, she needed to have a plan.

She darted between erected tents, diving behind a toppled supply cart to catch her breath. The combination of adrenaline and fear was making it hard for her to concentrate. She checked her position, ducking back down quickly with a sharp exhale. She had no armour, save for the bracers on her forearms and the soft greaves on her legs. With her undershirt a blaring beige, she was going to attract attention more than the gold plated, red cloaked Elites. Thankfully, she still had her knives, but she could only cut her way through so many bodies before she would tire and Arachne would find her.

Assessing her options didn't leave her with much. She needed to get out but where she had taken refuge the outer wall was still intact, leaving her exits either back the way she came where bandits were invading or through the entrance, where she was sure would be flooded with more bandits and Elites. She was alone in this fight and she … she was discovered.

A bandit screamed as he came around the cart. Annabeth's head darted towards the sound before she was rolling backwards to avoid the arcing double-edged axe. She scrambled on her hands to remain out of reach from the axe, knowing it looked terribly ungraceful thanks to her boots continually losing traction on the soft ground. She arched her back as the blade swung over her head, her hand reaching down to the boot, and letting lose one of her smaller knives. The bandit's head snapped back as the knife embedded into his forehead, his body twitching as he collapsed to the ground.

Able to get to her feet, Annabeth quickly retained her knife, eyes darting left and right for any other immediate threats. She had a few seconds, at best, so she crouched and moved quickly towards where she hoped was her exit, hiding behind another supply crate. How long had passed? A minute, ten minutes? Arachne was still hunting for her and wouldn't stop unless she herself was killed, which Annabeth knew was highly unlikely from mere bandits. The thought of facing her alone had Annabeth wanting to vomit. It was easier when she had someone fighting at her side, even if he felt the need to …

Percy! Of course, she had someone and she had a way to contact him. Did she want to bring him into this? She didn't have a choice and if he was nearby as he promised her he would be, what was to say he wasn't already charging headfirst into the fray to find her? She had to signal him, but a mere whistle wasn't going to carry over the sounds of battle. She rose to her feet, eyes searching not only for oncoming threats but for something else she could use.

Elites and bandits fell alike, some screaming, others silenced by fatal blows. Across the camp she spotted a cluster of Elites that had died beside each other, trying to gain higher ground but failing. The highest body had fallen awkwardly, his head tilted to the sky, his body twisted. But that was not caught her attention. His sword had not even been drawn but clutched in his hand instead was … Annabeth's eyes widened, just as her presence was discovered by several bandits.

She leapt over bodies and boxes, dodging swinging axes and bludgeoned maces, slicing armour and flesh that got in her way. She slid under a sword slash, spinning and stabbing its owner in the back, before reaching over and slicing their neck for good measure. She reached the cluster of Elites, turning back and stabbing a bandit who thought she could kill Annabeth in the back before kicking her into the muddied and bloodied path. Facing the group, she reached up towards the highest Elite and pried the horn from his hand. She blew the four-note whistle, praying the person who she needed to hear understood.

Annabeth became a target, bandits swarming towards the source of the noise thinking it was a signal for reinforcements. She fought the first seven head on, and then darted around fallen tents, working her way towards the fringe of the camp, hoping a section had been destroyed for an easier escape. Every few paces she blew the horn, knowing it would be easy to track but it was a risk she had to make.

Then, she wasn't sure when or how, she became surrounded. Bandits came at her from all sides, unrelenting, crazed. Their faces became a blur of darkness and shadows, flames and embers raining around her as she battled for her life. Retreating towards the wooden wall, she barely survived one attack when another two leapt at her, slashing and slicing. She moved in close to another, her knife deadly accurate and driven straight into his heart. Their eyes met, and Annabeth noticed in the flames the tattoos that covered half his face before he fell from her knife and to the ground. She had no time to process what she'd seen before the next bandit rammed into her side, sending her stumbling and diving aside to avoid the swinging sword.

Fallen bodies started to pile up around her as she continued to backtrack, continued to spin, deflect, parry, and dart until she was battle dancing, her knife and flame torch extensions of her arms and deadly to the touch. She screamed, yelled and bellowed after each felled opponent, hoping it would act as a deterrent, but still they came, only hindering her progress and preventing her escape.

With a grunt of effort, Annabeth felled yet another bandit and happened to glance ahead of her. Her breath hitched with renewed fear and panic. Arachne had found her. She grinned at Annabeth, somehow avoiding the carnage around her as she stalked towards her prey. She was alone, which, considering the size of her guard, was a tiny relief, though it didn't reduce her potency.

Annabeth desperately tried to clear a path to escape but the bandits were too persistent, trapping her in. They didn't know she was marked for death, didn't know they were mere children on a threat scale compared to the one who advanced towards her, and she doubted they cared. She screamed her frustration and fear into the face of the last bandit she stabbed in the chest, his eyes wide as he realised he seconds from death, oblivious to the fact that he had just signed her death warrant as well. She kicked him away as Arachne jumped towards Annabeth with a scream, who barely parried away the knife that was aimed her heart.

Arachne landed, spinning around to face her with an evil gleam to her eyes. That wicked knife gleamed in the firelight as she raised it, letting Annabeth take in every jagged edge and surface of her weapon of death. Being the most potent poison to have ever been created, it only had to produce the slightest cut to fell her opponent. The blade was already coated in blood and as more screams filled Annabeth's ears, she could almost imagine they had experienced its lethal kiss firsthand.

Annabeth's nightmare had come to life and she stood before her. Years of running, of pretending the blood in her veins was that of an ordinary street kid and still she was found. She felt weak with her fear, her body trembling with it. She had to find her courage. Find her courage or else she was dead. They circled each other, Annabeth trying to steady her fear as she tossed her torch aside and pulled her second knife free, the screams in her ears transforming into a dull roar. She had trained for this. She could do this. Arachne, sensing the shift in Annabeth's demeanour, crouched slightly, and grinning wickedly, charged to engage.

She was fast, faster than Annabeth had anticipated. She had to backtrack several metres, her knives flashing to keep her chest from being cut open. Annabeth planted her feet and blocked with one knife, driving forward on the offensive with the other. This gave Annabeth time to reset and she readjusted her stance, forcing Arachne to defend as she charged blade first towards her. Arachne parried her strikes. Annabeth's relentless attack had unbalanced her and Arachne collected a slash to her arm as she tried to evade the twin blades. She backed away, grimacing in a snarl as she inspected the wound, but that reprieve only lasted a couple of seconds.

Skill wise, they were too evenly matched. Annabeth spun and darted to the side, blocking the driving knife towards her stomach, bringing her second knife across her body to slice across Arachne's knife arm, only to slash through air. Annabeth had the advantage of the double blades, but Arachne only needed to cut Annabeth for her victory. Annabeth knew that Arachne would draw out that victory as tortuously as she possibly could, but she needed Annabeth to make a mistake first.

"I can't wait to watch your blood coat this ground," Arachne taunted. Annabeth ignored the attempt of distraction, feinting and driving forward only to be blocked. "I had almost forgotten what a real challenge was. Your brothers and sisters never put up this much of a fight." Annabeth's anger started to rise, but she kept it controlled, narrowly avoiding the tip of the knife, wildly swinging to give her a chance to take a back step. "You should've heard the way their screamed, moaned, begged –."

Arachne was flung backwards by a powerful roundhouse kick from Annabeth, whose vision turned red. Arachne cackled as she leapt to her feet, easily defending Annabeth's vicious, anger-fuelled attack. Spinning, Annabeth fought faster, fiercer as she looked to end Arachne's vendetta with one clean blow. Too long had she been afraid, too long had she left Arachne haunt her. She was ready for it to be over, one way or the other.

The balance had shifted and Arachne could sense it. She had taunted the wrong Athenian. Every break in Annabeth's attack, Arachne attempted to put her back onto the defensive, tried to weave in under her blades, but it wasn't as effective as before. It was in one of Annabeth's lethal attacking combos that she lost her balance. Her back foot slipped in a puddle of blood and she quickly had to shift from attack to defence. She was falling and she could see Arachne's eyes widen with victory as she slashed her knife across. It's blade slid against Annabeth's as she brought it back, ready to thrust it forward. Annabeth tried to twist her body out of the path of the knife, but even she could see she wouldn't be quick enough.

Someone leapt in front of her as she fell to the ground with a grunt, blocking Arachne's next blow. The Mother of Spiders took a few steps back, eyes narrowing to slits as she appraised the new fighter. He charged forward, hellbent on protecting Annabeth with a ferocious intent that even Arachne couldn't compete with. His cloak swished around him, his sword glinting in the firelight as it cut seamlessly through the air, guided by his steady hand. Their fight was swift and brutal, but Percy, with his power and motivation, was undefeatable. With a bellowing cry, he leapt to the side, pushing off a crate and slicing Arachne across her chest, then her back.

Arachne gurgled in shock and pain, frozen in place as Percy held up his sword and drove it through her back, it's bloodied tip pushing through and out of her chest. She fell to her knees, her cruel eyes on Annabeth, wide in surprise. The blood that she coughed and choked from her mouth looked a toxic black.

Percy's face was hardened with rage as he leant down to her ear. "Enjoy death, Mother of Spiders," he whispered.

He pulled his sword free and Arachne didn't have time to grunt in pain or finish her own snarl before he swung it again, severing her head from her neck in one clean motion. Her head thudded and dropped beside her body, her face frozen mid-snarl as it rolled across the bloodied ground. His chest heaved, his gaze on his surroundings, checking for any immediate threats as Annabeth, suddenly exhausted, got slowly to her feet.

"Percy," she said softly.

He looked to her, eyes lighting in relief, a grin appearing on his lips. Annabeth was about to reciprocate that grin when the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Instinct kicked in and she dropped and dived aside. Percy charged to her defence, stabbing the bandit that had tried to sever her spine with one arcing blow, rushing to parry the next strike before spinning and bringing his sword down to slash another.

Annabeth, after an awkward landing, got to her feet, grunting a little at a strange stinging pain. She engaged with an oncoming bandit, subduing them before shifting position so she was behind Percy, protecting his back as they continued to take down the bandit party. Their fighting styles complimented each other, and they moved in synchronicity, both near unstoppable when together. Percy took the brunt of the oncoming force, his strikes brutal and precise. He incapacitated them, leaving them for Annabeth to finish as he parried and blocked the next oncoming strike, weaving around the bandits as only an experienced fighter could.

But something was wrong with Annabeth. She could feel something was different. Her movements were getting clogged down, her vision a little hazy. Pins and needles were in her fingertips, racing up her arm with every blow she met with her blade. Her legs were beginning to feel weak and shaky. Slashing a bandit's throat, she went to engage with the next one but instead fell, a gasp escaping her lips. She rolled away before being bludgeoned and leapt towards them, driving both knives into his chest.

Pushing the dead bandit away, she overbalanced and stumbled, hastily blocking the next attack and kicking that opponent away, almost falling back over. It was as though she was suffering the effects of intoxication, minus the alcohol. She glanced up towards the next oncoming bandit, and her left arm sagged like dead weight at her side. Panicked, she avoided the swing at the last second, slashing with her right, swinging the knife and driving it backwards. She felt it connect, felt the blade slice through muscle and bone and heard the gurgle of the bandit, then she was falling. She caught herself on one knee but her knives fell from her hands and as she glanced down to find and retrieve them, she realised what was affecting her.

Percy's fighting went into overdrive and with a bellowing yell, he spun and drove his sword down on a particularly large brute of a bandit, nearly severing him from shoulder to hip. With the threat temporarily at bay, he turned and rushed to her kneeling figure, his free hand going to her cheek, worried questions in his eyes when he saw her pain, her fear. Annabeth brought a shaking hand up for him to see and he paled, his eyes trailing down to her abdomen where her bloodied hand had come, revealing the four-inch gash that Arachne had managed to inflict before he intervened. His eyes widened in horror, realising it was no mere wound.

"It was silly," she said breathlessly. He remained frozen, too shocked to move or speak. "I slipped and I thought I had got out of the way or at least got my guard into place but I must have been too slow. I don't think it's too deep, there may be a chance it's …"

She was rambling, trying to reassure herself even though she knew it was useless. There was no chance, shallow gash or not. Arachne's venom was fatal in any dosage and she was already feeling the effects. She gazed down at her hands, her shaking hands, coated in her own blood. She had seen this; an image from the Crystal. It was a warning and she had missed it. Still, the human in her refused to believe there wasn't a way to survive.

Annabeth couldn't do anything about the venom, so blood loss was her next main concern. She grunted in pain as she pressed on her wound, assessing her body for further injuries, surprised to find other minor cuts on her arms and one bigger one on her shoulder blade. She glanced back to Percy, who had managed to snap his shock. He ripped the cleanest section of shirt from a nearby fallen bandit as well as their belt. He belted the shirt section across her wound as tightly as Annabeth could comfortably tolerate. He gripped her face in his hands, staring at her intently.

"I'll find a way," he told her. "This is not where we end."

With tears in her eyes, she nodded, kissing him swiftly, savouring the feel of his kiss as she rose to shaky legs. The fighting was beginning to dwindle down into concentrated areas, allowing Percy and Annabeth to sneak their way towards the exit. Getting caught up in a skirmish would only waste precious time Annabeth was quickly running out of, as was the huge bandit presence at their intended exit. Percy swore, eyes searching, before leading her back the way they came, kicking down a weakened portion of the wall while she kept guard. They had to wiggle through the gap, causing Annabeth further pain but then they were free, moving a safe distance from the camp.

Then she was getting helped onto Blackjack. When did the horse get there? She slumped over the horse's neck and it was an effort to sit up as Percy leapt up behind her. He placed an arm securely around her waist, the other grabbing the reins in a white-knuckled grip. He urged Blackjack towards the safety of the trees, ignoring the sounds of the bandit raid as it got softer. They reached the trees and Annabeth heard Percy gasp in surprise, Blackjack coming to a halt. His body stiffened and the arm wrapped around her tightened.

"Rachel," he breathed.

Unblemished, Rachel emerged from the shadows, a sense of grave urgency in her expression as she looked at them. "Hurry Percy, the dosage of venom may be minimal, but time is not on her side," she informed him. "Find the lightning daughter. She will be her only chance."

He didn't need to hear anymore, urging Blackjack forward. Annabeth turned her head to keep her focus on Rachel, who watched them go solemnly before disappearing amongst the trees. Slumping back, she kept her ear against Percy's chest, hearing the erratic thump of his accelerated heartbeat, trying to keep her own breaths steady. She brushed her fingers against her token, trying to draw strength from it. Her head drooped, her eyes settling on her wound, at her blood as it seeped from the makeshift bandage.

Arachne's venom was having the strangest, and most challenging, effects on Annabeth that she had ever experienced before. The first hour or so of Blackjack racing through the forest at Percy's behest was the equivalent of dealing with injuries after a skirmish that Annabeth was used to, but then it changed. The pain that was stinging went to throbbing, then went to an ache that felt as though she was being stabbed over and over again. She couldn't help the groan that passed her lips, or the ones that followed as the forest flew behind them.

She could feel the tension and worry emanating from Percy long after she suppressed voicing her pain, knowing every hiss or groan caused him to flinch. The sensation of being stabbed was replaced by other conflicting sensations. She was freezing, her body shivering but at the same time, she was melting with a raging fever. It was as though her body was experiencing every symptom for every illness. Her fingers were constantly tingling, her feet numb in her boots. Percy set Blackjack to a walk, flinging his cloak over her, hoping to ease her shivering. Her energy was draining rapidly and at some point, she passed out.

Annabeth knew the mixed symptoms was just her brain trying to process what was happening to her body, her nerves being attacked over and over by the poison as it tried to devour every muscle and cell in her body, but knowing didn't soften the experience. Her eyelids were cloggy when she woke, the tingling in her fingers now reaching her up into her hands. Her tongue felt heavy and dry, nostrils burning. She needed water, but the thought of taking a sip made her feel sick. Speaking of which …

Annabeth leant over the side of the horse and threw up her stomach contents. Her wound protested the movement and she could feel more blood seep into the bandage. Percy pulled Blackjack to a halt when he realised she wasn't settling. He jumped down, gently grabbing her and carrying her to the closest section of a stream, Blackjack trailing. He set her down so he could grab things from the saddle bags, cursing when he couldn't find what he wanted, throwing something aside in frustration before returning to her.

"Annabeth, please," he begged softly. "Please, drink some water."

She knew she had to, despite the prospect nauseating her further. She took a sip at first, then the whole canteen, the nausea dissipating for the moment. Percy refilled the canteen and soaked a pieces of cloth in the stream, tying one on Annabeth's head and another around her neck. He checked her wound and sucked in a breath, causing Annabeth to follow his gaze. The wound was infected, but the poison had created a sickening green vein effect, worming their way from the wound and spreading around her abdomen.

"I've never seen a poison do that before," she croaked, her throat aching.

"We need to keep moving." Percy covered it quickly, placing her back onto Blackjack and urging him to hurry.

Annabeth wove in and out of consciousness, in and out of fevers and shivering chills, in and out of nausea. The effects were getting worse, the pain growing and the numbness that followed. Her lips were dry and cracked and thanks to her biting down on them to prevent from screaming, bleeding. Percy tried to encourage and comfort her, all the while pushing Blackjack to his limits as he raced to get her to help. Morning was breaking and Annabeth knew her time was slipping away.

The reins were pulled hard on Blackjack and he almost reared to a stop, waking Annabeth. She felt Percy slide down behind her, but she couldn't open her eyes to find where he had gone. Everywhere hurt, everywhere numb. Her thoughts were incoherent, but she forced her attention on Percy, using every piece of her will as she could. Water sloshed somewhere to her left. Blackjack shook his head restlessly, panting hard. Something slopped and slapped the water.

"Thank the stars." She heard him breathe in relief. She heard the rustle of clothing and then the steady hand on her back. "Annabeth, chew on this."

It was agony to open her eyes, but she managed it. Her sight was blurry around the edges but she accepted the freshly cleaned roots Percy held out for her. If it was agony to open her eyes, it was double that trying to chew on the roots as they continued to race to who knew where. As soon as she finished the roots she was unconscious again and Annabeth could feel death waiting for her.

She wasn't ready, she didn't want to leave but her body was. It was exhausted, running on fumes as the poison took everything it could. She could hear Percy begging her to hold on, to stay with him for just a little longer, help was within reach. She couldn't move, couldn't respond, could only listen between her shuttering, short breaths to Blackjack's hacking, heavy pants. She wondered dimly whether she would hear her own last breath before she moved on to wherever awaited her.

Annabeth was jolted into consciousness by Percy lifting her off Blackjack and into his arms. He cradled her gently, securely and despite the pain his touch was causing, she felt a feeble resurgence in strength. There was a whistle, followed by a thud. An arrow? He was yelling at someone, demanding entrance but where they were, Annabeth didn't care. The groaning of timber and chains. Footsteps. Weapons being drawn.

"Dammit Percy," a female voice growled. "Have you lost your mind?"

"I claim sanctuary," Percy stated.

"Oh, fuck no," the woman replied. "That is _not_ happening. Do you know how much shit I copped from your last attempt?"

"Do you think I would've come if I wasn't desperate?" he yelled angrily. "Look at her! She's been poisoned by Arachne's venom!"

She heard someone approach, followed by a cold hand on her cheek. Annabeth would've flinched from the freezing touch if she had the energy. Annabeth opened her eyes to see the newcomer, but her vision was blurry. The woman was eye-level to where Annabeth sat against Percy's chest. There was bright blue in the middle of a cream blob, surrounding by black. A face? Had to be.

"Athenian?" The voice came from the blob of colour.

"True blood."

There was a pause, the woman and Percy staring at each other. Then the woman was delivering orders, and there was a flurry of activity around the gate. The woman led Percy into the town, Annabeth jostled as they hurried along. She let out a small whimper and Percy slowed, keeping her as steady as he could. She closed her eyes, too weak to keep them open.

"Petra, make sure guards are posted at every surrounding outpost," the woman ordered at someone. "Arachne's cunning and if she discovers the girl is still alive, she'll hunt her down and –."

"Arachne's dead," Percy cut in with a hard voice.

"Are you sure?" the woman asked.

"I stabbed her through the heart and cut off her head," he replied bluntly, no ounce of remorse in his voice.

Stunned silence followed. "Didn't think you had that in you," she admitted, before speaking to Petra. "Despite that, make sure the outposts are on high alert. There's been a restlessness surrounding us, and I want to know if it starts coming this way."

"Since when have you been in charge?" asked Percy a minute or so later though Annabeth was only speculating on the space of time.

"Since our leader went missing and her second went to find her. You're so fucking lucky she wasn't at the gate or else she would've foregone a warning shot and killed you."

"As long as you helped her, I wouldn't have cared."

More silence. Annabeth thought she felt eyes on her. Must have been the woman in charge. She wondered if she looked as awful as felt.

"How long ago was she poisoned?"

"I don't know. Ten, maybe twelve hours ago," Percy answered.

"Fuck," she cursed.

Doors opened. More activity was happening around her. She was lowered onto something soft. A stretcher? She was lying down and her body sagged. She was raised and moving again but she couldn't feel Percy anymore. Where was he? A hand on her wrist. There he was. Where was she being carried? She was so tired. Lights were flaring in her face; she could feel the heat. Why wouldn't they let her sleep? The hand at her wrist fell away. Annabeth whimpered softly.

"Perce, you have to stay here," the woman said.

"What? No, I'm going with her." There was a scuffle. "Back off!" he growled.

"Listen to me. Listen to me! You're only going to be in the way. I'll be with her the whole time, I promise you."

She wanted to see Percy, one last time, but she couldn't open her eyes. She wanted to cry, she wanted to see his face, see his beautiful green eyes, see his smile. The image she had of him in her mind was blurring, fading as the poison tried to devour it along with what remained. She didn't get to tell him how she felt, didn't get to tell him she severed ties with the Elites. She was moving again, but Percy wasn't there, someone else was instead.

She was in a room. She couldn't explain how she knew, but she did. More activity flurried around her. Hands touched her face, removing Percy's cooling cloths and cloak, lifting her eyelids, pulling her mouth open, her wrists, removing her bracers, then her token, no! They already took Percy, not that. She whimpered in protest, and with a burst of strength, trying to get it back she twitched her fingers; that was all she could manage?

"Give me that," the woman said. "It must mean something to her."

Annabeth wanted to cry. Her shirt was cut away. There was a collective gasp around her, someone whispering a quick prayer, someone consoling her but that all went silent as someone else entered the room. A healer? It had to be by the way they were chasing most from the room to grab various herbs and tinctures. The healer had a kind voice, so it was easy to decipher it from the other substitute leader voice. Could Annabeth go to sleep now? She was so very tired.

"How is she still alive after all these hours?" the leader woman murmured.

"There could be a multitude of reasons. I suspect once the Mother of Spiders discovered a true born Athenian was within her grasp, she hastened to find her, forgetting to coat her knife as frequently with her concocted 'venom' as she usually would. While any dosage is supposedly fatal, it's effects would be lessened to a degree, but no less painful."

More hands touched Annabeth. These ones softer, more inspective. Someone came back in. Crunching. Stone grinding on stone. Liquid poured and stirred. There was a strange aroma filling the room. It was soothing, pleasing. Annabeth could fall asleep with that lovely scent as her last memory.

"What's her name?" the healer asked

"Shit. I didn't get it off Percy," was the reply.

"Athenian," the healer addressed Annabeth. "I know you can't do much at the moment and you very much want to let it all go but I need you to find your strength one last time and listen." It was a struggle, but Annabeth managed to. "The venom has spread considerably throughout your body and while the burdock root slowed it's progress, it is a more severe case than I have seen. We've been trialling a process against this venom with mixed results, but it has been our most effective combating it. This process is going to push your body to its absolute limits and there is a heavy chance your heart will give out from the strain. You need to drink this, and then I'll coat the wound with a paste, then your body with an oil made from similar ingredients. This will dampen the poison's effect on your body, but it is slow, especially with the grip it already has on you."

Annabeth's head was lifted and tilted, something cold and hard pressed against her lips. That aroma was stronger now. Her mouth was forcibly opened and what Annabeth thought was a sedative was slowly poured into her mouth. She swallowed it, unable to taste it, which may had been a good thing. Finally, finally, she was allowed to sleep. In the back of her mind, she told herself she would wake up, she was determined to wake up again.

Annabeth heard one last thing before she drifted off. She didn't know whether it was the healer or the other woman who said it, but she remembered the words.

"Be brave, Athenian."


	18. Chapter 18

**As always, these characters do not belong to me.**

**Readers be advised: Mild language**

**Chapter Eighteen**

**Percy**

Exhaustion was only the tip of how Percy was feeling. He had been pacing back and forth in the main hall of the Hunter's infirmary before his legs gave way, forcing him to take a seat on a rickety chair. There was so many things running through his head that he couldn't focus on any one thought and he ended up merely staring at the blank wall ahead of him. A gentle tap on his shoulder snapped his reverie, the last few days hitting him in a rushed frenzy that almost had him wincing.

"I'm sorry," the Huntress apologised. "I was trying to talk to you, to get your attention."

"No, I'm sorry," he corrected lightly. "I was being rude. What were you saying?"

"Thalia asked me to escort you to the Elite's room so you could see her, the injured woman you brought in," she replied, a little tentatively. "She was really insistent."

With another polite smile directed towards the Huntress, he got wearily to his feet, unsurprised to find his body protest the movement. He struggled to pay attention, but he forced himself to, if only to distract his other thoughts. The Huntress was young, a recruit if Percy was reading her demeanour correctly. Her ash blonde hair was pulled away from her face by a dull green head band, her simple dress a similar colour, making the light blue of her eyes brighter.

"In Thalia's insistence," he began, as they turned the corner. "How descriptive did she get?"

A shy smile appeared on the girl's face as she turned into another small hallway and paused at the first door on their left. "I'd rather not say."

Percy huffed a chuckle. "Sounds like her."

The room was quiet when he entered, his heart lurching. There she was. Pale, but she looked peaceful, almost as if she had merely fallen asleep. From the corner of his eye he saw Thalia half-rise from her chair. He remembered her promise to remain at her side, though grateful, he was surprised she could do so being temporarily in charge of the Hunters. He moved dream-like to Annabeth's side, pulling a second chair to her bedside. His eyes took in her every feature as he settled into the chair, his hand reaching out, taking hers from under the blanket and bringing it to his lips.

"Is it working?" he murmured, trying to see any change, any sign.

"Yes, but it's slow," Thalia answered gravely, coming around to his side.

"How slow?"

He heard Thalia take a deep breath. "The antidote has a lot of poison to eradicate so it'll take time. We're more worried about the strain it'll take on her body. Her heart could still just give out."

"But it's working," he wanted to confirm.

"She really is someone to you," Thalia said softly in surprise. "I assumed it was just you being you but this, this is more, isn't it? Yeah, Perce," she added when he said nothing to her statement. "Got to give it to her, she's one tough bitch."

His lips twitched. "You have no idea."

His free hand drifted to a lock of her hair, letting the blonde curl weave around his fingers and fall back onto the pillow. Gazing at Annabeth's face, another face morphed into hers; an older, sicker face. They both looked at peace, they both held a special place in Percy's heart and he might end up losing them both. The older woman was smiling tiredly at Percy, letting him know it was okay to let her go, to let her be finally at peace. Both times he had been unable to do anything but watch as they fought their illness.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I can just sit here. Not after …" His head dropped, his free hand clenching into a fist at his side as the other face from his memories melted away.

"I understand," Thalia said softly. "Your mother was truly one badass woman. It was hard to see her succumb – sorry," she added, seeing him flinch. "I miss her too." Percy nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose to prevent his tears from falling.

"You know, I don't mind just sitting here," Thalia told him conversationally. "Gives me a break from this 'being in charge' gig. Who would've thought people had so many problems?" She shook her head, returning to her chair at the end corner of Annabeth's bed, plonking down with a sigh. "Besides, there's so much paperwork! Why do people have to write everything down? I can understand why you skip out on your village as often as you do."

"I don't 'skip out' on my village," he told her, feeling his lips twitch.

Thalia scoffed in disbelief, grabbing a handful of papers. "Whatever you say, Cuz." She gave him a pointed stare, then frowned. "That shirt looks awful on you."

"Your Hunters grew uncomfortable with me wandering the halls in bloodied armour. It was the only one that fit," he said, trying not to roll his eyes. "Apparently."

Thalia snorted in laughter. "If only your girl could see you now, she might have second thoughts."

"Annabeth," he supplied with a slight smile. Thalia gave a nod of acknowledgement, eyes drifting down to her notes.

Percy glanced back to Annabeth's sleeping face, guilt gnawing at his empty stomach. So many questions, so many different scenarios ran through his head as he gazed at her, each one with a variable that was no longer an option. The 'if only' chorus sang until Percy drifted off to sleep, her hand still in his.

"Percy."

Percy was gently shaken awake and he sat up with a lurch, taking a few seconds for his mind to kick into gear. Thalia's errand Huntress was at his side, smiling down at him. Percy glanced towards Annabeth, still pale and asleep, before rubbing his eyes with his free hand.

"Any change?" he asked.

"Not yet but the progress of the antidote is slow since it's still really in its trial stages," she replied in a comforting tone. "Thalia had to go, but she asked me to wake you and take you to her house so you could get a proper sleep. You can add all her anecdotes in yourself," she added.

Percy smiled tiredly. "I should stay," he murmured, his eyes drifting down Annabeth's bed, just in case she started to move.

"I'll keep an eye on her," she promised. "My partner is on patrol, so she won't be back until morning anyway."

"How long was I asleep?" he wondered, having no windows to gage the time.

"A few hours," she answered, taking Thalia's seat with a book in her hand. "The sun is just starting to set."

Percy sighed, rising to his feet. He found his way out of the infirmary, though he paused at entrance, trying to get his bearings as he glanced around the village. The villagers that sought sanctuary under the protection of Artemis and her loyal hunters stared at him as he walked down the main street, having only seen him racing down that very street the day before with their temporary leader carrying a seriously injured woman. He headed to what he hoped was still Thalia's residence as torches were beginning to be lit. The smells of the evening vendors met Percy's nostrils and the grumbling in his stomach indicated he probably needed to stop at one of the more charitable sellers.

"Percy?"

He had been on the verge of daydreaming of his potential meal when his name being called interrupted any thoughts of food. He turned, then started in surprise. He was moving towards the owner of the voice seconds later, engulfing her in a hug, which she reciprocated with a tight squeeze.

"Piper," he breathed, pulling back to see it was really her, then hugged her again, careful to avoid the feather in her hair from tickling his nose. "What are you doing here?"

"Needed a break," she answered simply. "Found myself here." She pulled away, her hands resting on his arms, eyes searching his. "I heard about the Elite. Is there's anything I can do?"

Percy shook his head. "Can only wait and hope I got her here in time for the antidote to work."

Piper placed a friendly hand on his cheek, smiling in that peculiar way she did. "It's good to see you," she said warmly. "But why are you wearing that horrible shirt?"

Percy replied with a laugh, pulling her in for another hug, swaying them gently in the middle of the street, drawing comfort from her embrace. He remembered first meeting her and the ragtag group she had been living with on the run from bandits. The slightly outlandish inventor with his constant tinkering that reminded Percy so much of Silena's Charlie and the golden-haired fighter that Percy often butted heads with but considered him a brother, nonetheless. And then Piper. The fiercely loyal and calm voice of reason, with her unruly attire and choppy hairstyle that often featured several braids that ended with various feathers. Percy and Piper, while it took some time and some close violent calls, became friends, their bond strengthening to near unbreakable over the years.

When Percy finally let Piper go, they walked together to Thalia's house. It was grand, well, bigger than most of the other huts that Artemis' Hunters preferred. Percy had been a resident of her house on several occasions, though a couple of times he had been unwelcome or hiding from those who wanted him dead. It didn't take long for the familiar smells and furniture for him to remember the layout. His saddle bags had been left inside the entry door and he spotted a note attached to a steaming pot of stew when he ventured into the kitchen area.

"She knew you would find me," Percy said, showing Piper the note.

"We shouldn't let it go to waste," Piper replied with a smile. "Let's hope she didn't have a hand in cooking it."

Within an hour Percy had changed shirts, a fire was built in the living room and the two of them were seated on comfortable chairs in front of the embers. The pot of stew sat half-eaten on the bench which, Piper remarked in relief, tasted better than anything Thalia could ever make. Piper was just finishing brewing the tea and handing Percy his mug when the night settled around them.

"You seem, different," he observed, gingerly holding his tea.

Piper gazed around the room thoughtfully. "After Jason …" she paused, staring into her mug. "Everywhere at home just reminded me of him. I felt, suffocated. Being here has really helped me figure out what I want to do with my life."

"I'm sorry, Pipes. I should've seen you were struggling and –."

"Don't," she interrupted. "You don't need to put any more burdens upon yourself. You didn't see because I didn't want you to. You weren't with Jason because he knew you were needed elsewhere. Even knowing the risks, nothing could've stopped him from trying to save those people, Perce, that was just who he was."

"Will you come back?" he asked, after a few moments of silence.

"Of course," she promised with a smile. She reached over and took his hand, the embers illuminating her eyes golden. "It will always be my home and you guys will always by my family." He gave her hand a slight squeeze before she pulled it back. "Want to tell me about her?" she asked slyly.

With a soft smile, Percy recalled his journey with Annabeth. He had just finished explaining the ambush at the Elite camp when Thalia entered, her expression as dark as a thundercloud. Percy and Piper shared a look as Thalia grabbed her share of the stew, a flagon already in her other hand when she sat beside Piper. She downed both in rapid succession, staring into the embers.

"Still not enjoying leadership?" Piper asked lightly.

Thalia grunted, finishing her flagon. "The scouts came back from where the Elites had set up their camp." She looked to Percy. "Luke and a handful of Elites survived the ambush."

"Where is he?" he asked.

"Vanished."

Percy growled angrily. One look towards Piper and his anger simmered. He knew Luke was somehow involved with Arachne's presence at the camp, and once Annabeth recovered, he wasn't going to stop until he tracked him down and returned the favour. He had delayed their reunion for long enough.

"Have your scouts any idea why bandits would attack such a large number?" he asked.

"The scouts wouldn't get too close in case of lingering spies but from their report they weren't all bandits," Thalia answered wearily. "They spotted cult tattoos on some of the fallen."

"That's a first," Piper observed with a low whistle.

"Yes, and it's been causing me headaches all afternoon," Thalia said grumpily.

Percy stared towards the fireplace. Tattoos and factions hadn't meant anything when he charged into the ambush searching for Annabeth. Anyone that got in his way was just an obstacle that he struck down. He tried to remember the noises, the voices.

Wait. One shouted at him before he was stabbed, and another echoed it as Percy ran past him, but what did they say? It was familiar, as if he had heard it before. Percy ignored discerning the words for the moment, focusing in on the earlier memory. He tasted the tang of blood and fear, and anger, the acrid smell of burning flesh from an animal, and chants? More chants, saying the same thing as a symbol was drawn on his forehead in blood. A symbol of sacrifice.

"They'll be after the Crystal," Percy admitted. "Luke asked Annabeth to retrieve the Crystal from the Cave," he explained.

"And she got it?" Thalia said, shocked.

Percy closed his eyes, coming to a realisation. "No, she gave him a fake but there would've been many who had seen her leave the Cave with the decoy in her possession."

"Then tracked her to Luke," Thalia continued. "When they discover what is in his possession isn't real …"

"They would assume Annabeth double-crossed him, kept it for herself," Piper finished. "They'll come for her."

"Fuck, Percy," Thalia growled, getting to her feet. "What have you gotten us into?"

"Maybe we should try and focus on who would want this Crystal so badly that they're willing to create alliances with conflicting parties and attack one of the best fighting armies," Piper said placatingly.

"I can only think of one," Percy said darkly, the memory of his sacrificial ceremony still fresh on his mind.

"You might want to work on your defences," came a voice from the shadows. Their heads turned as Reyna stepped into the room, her expression grave. "Octavian's preparing for war."

* * *

After a week of dividing his time between Annabeth, defensive plans and scout reports, Percy had almost reached his emotional limit. Staring down at the village from his retreat spot atop a small hill, he couldn't get his mind to focus on anything but feeling overwhelmed. Sitting at Annabeth's bedside, willing her to be better continued to bring forth memories of his mother, almost crushing his hope that the end result would be different. While the antidote was effective on both her wounds and erasing the lingering poison, the head healer gave her another week in which she needed to regain consciousness, or it was a high possibility that she never would.

Piper and Thalia, Reyna to a lesser degree, tried to ease his growing anxiety but they all had problems that needed attention, mainly the impending cultist army that would be heading their way in due time. Reyna had informed them the following morning of her arrival that Octavian had made an alliance with one of the competing bandit leaders and together they had overtaken most of the bandit factions, combining their forces with Octavian's fanatics. Not only bandits, but other cults had also pledged to Octavian's cause, giving him sizable numbers of people pliable to suggestion. Skillset didn't matter if an army was crushed under superior numbers.

"I thought I might find you here."

Percy didn't need to turn to know who it was that sat beside him. Didn't need to look down at the hand that reached out and grabbed his from the moss-covered trunk he sat upon or smell that beautiful fragrance as she adjusted the dark curtain of hair over her shoulder. Silena always had a unique, distinct way of knowing exactly when someone was hurting and the ability to sought them out even when they didn't want company. Percy being one of her specialities.

"The view's not quite as spectacular as the one at home," she continued conversationally, giving his hand a squeeze.

"I suppose Clarisse instigated this?" he asked.

"She was rather intent on returning to where, in her words, 'the fun was going to happen'." Silena rolled her eyes fondly. "After hearing Chris' report, I knew I was needed here."

"And home?"

"With the Stolls and Leo in charge of defensives, I think it'll be one of the safest places to be in right now," she said with a snort.

Percy couldn't help but agree. "Will and Nico?" he questioned.

Silena nodded. "Joined us a couple of days ago. You're avoiding the real questions."

"Delaying," he corrected with a small smile. "How's Nico?"

"Coping. Having Will with him this time has made a huge difference. He's reluctant to leave and search for Zoë, even though we all know he's the best tracker available. I think they're negotiating giving the Hunters a few more days to return before risking another party."

"Zoë's not one to ignore her people. If she hasn't returned and she should've, they're wasting time."

After Reyna's declaration, Thalia had sent word in the covert way the Hunters communicate to Zoë and her cohort that had went in search of Artemis. When no correspondence was returned, Thalia sent out scouts, only for them to return with more questions than answers. They had discovered one of their campsites, but it had been abandoned for days and without any trace or insight into the direction they had travelled. Rather than panic the rest of the Hunters, Thalia kept their disappearance under wraps, but it was clear something was amiss.

"I saw Reyna was here," Silena started hesitantly. "Is that why Piper is with Annabeth?"

"I asked her to be. Thought it would kill two birds with one stone."

Silena nodded, her face troubled as she sighed sadly. It had always been hard for the two women who had both loved Jason so fiercely to interact with each other. His death only made the awkwardness clearer. Piper had decided it would be easier to simply steer clear of the ex-mercenary when possible and Percy wanting someone at Annabeth's side at all times was the perfect excuse.

"Come on, Perce, it's me," Silena prompted softly.

"I don't know what to do," he admitted quietly. "Every time I see her, I see my Mom and how she …" he paused, his face crumpling. "What if she doesn't make it? What if I don't get to tell her …" he paused again, before declaring quietly. "I think I'm falling in love with her. And I don't understand why it feels like we're constantly being pulled away from each other, as if, as if we're not supposed to be together."

"Do you think you two belong together?" Silena asked softly. "She's a true-born Athenian and you're, well, you're your father's son."

Percy stared down at the village. "We are not our parents," he murmured. He rubbed his face wearily. "I shouldn't even be worrying about that. There'll be an army of cultists and bandits heading this way with a psychopath leading them and we have no way of gauging numbers, only that we'll be seriously outnumbered with no help."

"We've been in situations like this before and guess what?" She smiled. "We're still here. Give yourself time, Perce. Focus on the things you can do, and it will all fall into place." He leant over and kissed her forehead, giving her a soft smile. She rested her hand against his cheek.

"How far we've come from the idealistic kids wanting to have their own haven from the dramas of the world," she murmured. "We should've known deep down the drama always finds us." Her eyes darkened, her mind going to her beloved Charlie. He gently pressed his cheek against her hand and the darkness vanished, replaced with her smile.

"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you," she told him intently. "_You_, Percy. You always protect your family. You always find a way and I know you will again. Don't lose hope," she encouraged with a smile.

"Percy!"

Nico was jogging up towards them, slightly out of breath. Percy's stomach dropped. Silena, sensing his tension, drop her hand down to his. Nico's dark eyes looked grave as they met Percy's.

"It's Annabeth."


	19. Chapter 19

**As always, these characters do not belong to me.**

**Chapter Nineteen**

**Annabeth **felt both heavy and weightless, awake but very much asleep. Her memories were disjointed, but she recalled the severing of ties with the Elites, the mad dash to escape as the compound was ambushed by bandits and her frightful encounter with Arachne and its bloodied conclusion. Then there was nothing. Just a black void rendering her blind. She wondered whether that was what death felt like.

How long Annabeth was left in the black void, she could not say. But she waited patiently, for a sign, for a light, anything, to tell her what to do next. Waited and waited, staring into the nothingness. Was it nothing? Annabeth squinted, or at least she thought she did, and there, the tiniest pinprick of something. It was growing, expanding, awash with images. Scenes of people she knew, people she had yet to meet but somehow, she knew exactly who they were.

Sitting there, watching her friend's stories unfold, Annabeth realised she had seen these very scenes. But where her mind couldn't comprehend and cope with the effects of the Crystal before, somehow the effects of the venom nullified the madness. The scenes were both heartening and heartbreaking, gratifying and saddening as the past revealed itself to Annabeth. Even her own past was scattered amongst the others, each intertwining story helping her to connect them all to their present selves.

She didn't know how long it would last, or how much she was to see, but Annabeth knew deep down that the longer she continued to watch scene after scene unfold, she would soon lose her sense of self and become trapped within her own mind.

She wasn't sure when she decided to move, she wasn't even sure if she was the one that decided it, but she rose to her feet – well, she thought she did – and began moving. She didn't know what destination she was heading towards, only that she was going, and she wasn't looking back.

Her eyes opened. They opened! The light was both a relief and blinding blaze. Her eyelids fluttered, lifting slower. Everything was a blur, and white. She spotted a patch of colour and focused on that, and it became sharper, more solid. A woman, maybe a year or two older than Annabeth sat near the end corner of her bed, short black hair obscuring her face as she studied the papers in her hand, rifling through others on her lap. She must've sensed Annabeth's gaze for she lifted her head, her electric blue eyes widening in surprise.

"Holy shit," she breathed, tossing aside her papers. "Phoebe owes me 10 gold coins."

The woman rose to her feet and came to Annabeth's side, who blinked, her eyes tracking her movements drowsily. Questions were coming thick and fast, but Annabeth was struggling to keep awake. She knew this woman, and yet she didn't. It was all so confusing.

"You'll probably be back unconscious in about twenty seconds, so I'll have to make this real quick," the woman said, acutely diagnosing Annabeth. "You were taken to the Hunters of Artemis. We created an antidote to Arachne's venom which we successfully administered to your wound. Given the extent of your poisoning, it's going to take some time before it's left your system completely. Good news is that you aren't going to die, thanks to your timely return to the present. Percy's here and safe," she added quickly, seeing as Annabeth's eyelids were almost closed. "Oh, and I'm Thalia. I'll be looking after –."

Annabeth slipped back into unconsciousness.

* * *

It wasn't as much of a struggle to regain consciousness the second time. Annabeth was still surrounded by the darkness, but she knew that she could get out of it, knew that when she had the urge to move, she could. There was something different about the void; something, not as blinding. She could almost see waves of black rippling around her. Annabeth was almost hypnotised by its beauty as she moved her fingers through the tendrils.

She was stronger. It was a wisp of strength, but it was there when she opened her eyes again. There was feeling under her fingertips, the softness of the sheets against her skin, the slight warmth of the sun slanting in from somewhere that was quickly followed by a cool breeze. And a parching scratch to the back of her throat. Thalia was in the same chair as before, her head lolling to the side as she slept. The same papers sat on the floor beside the chair, so Annabeth guessed it had only been a few hours since she first woke.

"Water," Annabeth struggled to say.

She tried again but it only sounded like a rasped breath. It did, however, get Thalia's attention, who lurched awake. She took a few seconds for her brain to kick in, but she was grinning when she spotted Annabeth's gaze.

"Two from two, you're doing well," Thalia complimented.

"Water," Annabeth repeated, getting a little more oomph behind the word. She would've gestured, but her arms weren't cooperating.

"Sorry, what?"

"Water."

Finally getting enough strength to croak out her request and for it be audible, Thalia scurried for the pitcher and cup, citing the healer predicting Annabeth's dehydration.

"How are you feeling?" Thalia asked.

"Heavy," Annabeth responded, trying again to lift her arms but failing. She settled for a lifting her fingers but they merely twitched in response.

Thalia smiled. "A side effect, I think. I can't believe you're actually alive, and awake."

"Makes two of us," Annabeth sighed tiredly. "I owe the Hunters a great debt."

"You don't need to worry about that. Get some rest. No offense, but you still look awful. I think only the people that came from that prim princess' place can pull off dark shadows under the eyes."

Annabeth's lips twitched. "You're probably right, Lightning Daughter."

The smile on Thalia's face vanished. "What did you call me?"

"Lightning Daughter," she repeated, her voice slurring with fatigue. "Thalia the Lightning Daughter."

"No one has called me that in a long time," she admitted warily.

"I know. I saw the reason why you left that name behind. Were you really once close friends with Luke?"

Thalia paled slightly. "Did he say something? I wouldn't have thought he would bring that up. I certainly – wait, you said 'saw'. You're gonna have to explain that to me."

Annabeth closed her eyes, struggling to re-open them. "It's a symptom from the Crystal."

"Symptom? You know, I'm just gonna …"

Annabeth opened her eyes to see Thalia shift towards the door, opening it. "Naomi!" she called from the doorway. A Hunter with short, ash blonde hair appeared, giving Annabeth a surprised, but friendly smile when their eyes met. "Get someone to find Percy. Now, if possible," she said. Annabeth could tell she was trying to sound calm, but it was straining under her panic. The smile she gave Annabeth as Naomi disappeared was as strained as her voice.

"Percy will have to fill you in," Annabeth reassured her sleepily. "Because I'm about to pass out, again."

Annabeth was asleep and dreaming before Thalia could ask another question.

* * *

Annabeth watched the images that were shown to her, getting more insight into strangers that weren't strangers, acquaintances that were becoming friends, and a specific blood relative that was the subject of a lot of her current troubles. She found she was slowly gaining control of what she could see, focusing in on one particular person revealed all the Crystal had wanted her to see, though the images jumped back and forth through time, creating another puzzle that Annabeth had to try and piece together.

As she pried her eyes open, the last few images faded, allowing her to orientate herself back into reality. Her throat was dry, there was a dull ache across her abdomen that hadn't been there before, and her hands and feet were tingling but that all faded when her eyes met Percy's. His expression was mixed between wondrous and disbelieving, clouded by a thin layer of unshed tears as a hesitant smile played around his mouth. That mouth moved towards hers, lightly pressing against hers in feather-like tenderness, causing her own eyes to well with tears.

"Oh, hey," he said shakily when he spotted her tears. He gently kissed her forehead, bushing her hair tenderly. "No tears for me, okay? Even happy ones."

"Then no tears for me," she told him. Her arm was heavy, but she was determined to lift it and wipe a tear that had dropped from his cheek.

"I'll try to remember that," he agreed with a smile, leaning into her touch.

They continued to gaze at each other in silence, just finding comfort in the other. Percy gently stroked her hair, his other hand cupped over hers. Eventually her stomach rumbled, breaking the silence, causing them both to chuckle. Percy called out for Naomi, who returned with a small bowl of steaming broth. Annabeth eyed the bowl in Percy's hand, both of them knowing she wouldn't be able to feed herself but she would die of shame if she was hand-fed. Swallowing her pride, Annabeth let a very cautious Percy feed her.

"Thalia told me something very interesting," he said softly, after she had eaten her fill.

"I didn't mean to startle her."

"You should do it more often, it's rather amusing," he said with a smile before sobering. "Do I need to fetch Will?"

"There's no headaches," she assured him. "It's, probably best described as an echo, an after-effect, but somehow clearer than the original."

Percy frowned in thought, his thumb gently caressing Annabeth's hand while he held it. "The venom was a neurological weapon, yes? So maybe it's combining with the dampener Will gave you and somehow helping you process the visions said to come from the Crystal."

"Not just a pretty face, then?" she said cheekily.

"No, it's a perk," he replied with a smile, bringing her hand up to his lips. His brow furrowed in concern, brushing stray hairs from her forehead again. "You should rest."

"That's all I have been doing," she complained as she yawned. "I'm ready to be up and moving again."

Percy smiled knowingly. "How about tell me everything else you've been shown, and if you stay awake until you finish, then I'll spring you from here?"

Annabeth agreed, settling further into her pillows as she relayed everything she could remember. Percy paled a little when she recalled his memories about his Mother and her sickness, and his Father and their history. He relaxed when Annabeth assured him she didn't care about their parent's animosity and he laughed and kissed her when she flat out refused to call him the 'Pirate Prince'.

Despite her determination to remain awake, she could feel herself slowly slipping. Percy could see the fatigue taking over, and was smiling as her voice started to slur, her eyelids refusing to stay open. She was halfway through discussing Piper's memories when she drifted off, her last clear thought on the warmth of his hand on hers.

* * *

Little by little, Annabeth felt her strength return, and her dreams from the Crystal fade. In place of her dreams came her irritability at being confined to a bed. Irritability and frustration. In the week following waking from her coma she could sit up, eat meagre meals sparingly and gangly move her arms on her own but those small actions had Annabeth weak and tired, needing to sleep to regain her energy. She desperately wanted to walk, to train, but as the healer kept reminding her, it was a miracle that she even survived, and it would take time for her body to fully recover.

So, Annabeth waited until the healer had done her daily check-in, waited until Piper, who Annabeth met both in person and in her visions, was keeping her company before she attempted walking. Piper alone recognised Annabeth's determination as both a strength and a severe headache. Rather than leave Annabeth to attempt physical recovery on her own and undoubtedly injure herself further, she helped her. The first few times were a disaster, Annabeth could admit it, especially after she got caught inches from her face hitting the floor on numerous occasions, but she knew she was getting stronger, even if Thalia strenuously told her otherwise when she caught some of Annabeth's earlier attempts.

"We should call it a day," Piper suggested.

"I can make one, more, step," Annabeth argued through gritted teeth.

Sweat beaded on her temples, her hands clenched in a white knuckled grip. Her goal was the chair at the end of the room, a mere four steps. Piper hovered at her side, hands half raised, ready.

"Are you sure you don't want that cane?" Piper offered.

Annabeth glared at her. There was no way she was going to walk aided with a cane like an elderly villager. Her pride would never allow it. She was going to walk unaided or keep trying until she could, regardless of how many times she fell. Smirking innocently at the glare, Piper raised her hands in surrender.

Annabeth knew she could make it, she had made it with Piper's supporting hand several times, but it was time she did it on her own. Her legs were shaking but she forced her right one to push forward, her feet skimming the cool floor surface. She was ready to move her left, shifting her weight, but it was too much for her right leg to solely bare and it buckled. Piper caught her, cradling her fall with a soft grunt.

Frustrated, but not defeated, Annabeth leant against Piper's chest, ignoring the sharp pins and needles pain in her legs, and the scratches caused by Piper's grasping fingers. She patted Piper's arms that were around her chest, letting her know she was okay and she didn't have to be gripped so tightly. Piper relaxed only a little.

"I nearly had it," Annabeth said, exhausted from the effort.

"At least tell me we didn't bust the stitches again," Piper panted, slightly winded from Annabeth's weight.

"We're good," Annabeth confirmed, after probing her abdomen. A relieved sigh came from behind her ear. The options for their excuses every time her wound was re-opened were starting to slim.

Piper shuffled away, helping Annabeth scoot back so they were sitting next to each other on the ground, their backs leaning against the bed. Annabeth gazed down at her stretched-out legs in front of her, urging her toes to wiggle just to assure herself she still could.

"You're not a liability," Piper told her quietly. "And you're not helpless because you're still recovering."

"Tell that to Percy," Annabeth muttered.

"Percy's overprotective when it comes to the people he loves. He just wants you to be able to rest without any extra stress. Especially what you went through, what you are still going through," she added pointedly.

Annabeth sighed, watching her toes wiggle. Once Percy knew she was awake and out of danger, he had refused to leave her side. While it warmed Annabeth to know that someone cared that much about her, being confined to a bed wore her patience thin. That, and the increased amount of information she should not know that had come to her when she closed her eyes. Sensing her discomfort, Percy shortened his visits, letting Piper, Silena, who was introduced to Annabeth shortly after she had arrived with Chris, Clarisse, Will and Nico, take the reins in helping her process.

Processing trauma wasn't Annabeth's way, preferring to push it aside or squash it to the dark recesses of her mind and focus on training harder, faster so she could beat it the next time. Irrational as it was, she knew that emotional trauma could not be conquered by any physical means, but habits were hard to break. Having no way physical way to distract her, Annabeth was forced to confront her demons; and she had a lot of them.

Arachne was defeated. Annabeth's constant nightmarish enemy was gone, but not before giving her a lingering token of remembrance that pained if Annabeth shifted the wrong way. The Mother of Spiders had been a formidable foe, one that Annabeth couldn't have overcome if not for Percy, but she only got so close because of a betrayal that cut even deeper than her wound. Luke's blatant admission of knowing who sired her, charming her when she was at her most vulnerable and then using her loyalty and feelings for his own gain broke her heart almost as much as her pride.

She had been tricked, fooled into thinking he cared for her, fooled into believing in a cause that was riddled with selfish intentions. The Elites were gone, save for a rumoured surviving few that were forced to scatter. Annabeth knew she would have to return to the place she had once proudly called home to collect the remainder of her things, though not to live. No, she was done calling herself an Elite. She had given them everything, and in the end was vilified as if her loyalty meant nothing. A sentence handed down by their power-hungry leader.

Luke's life came to her while she was unconscious. She saw a once happy childhood slowly fester and turn abusive. Blamed for the ailing health of his Mother, his Father was at the core of Luke's insecurities, having been constantly scolded and told he would never be good enough, never worth the money spent on him, never to amount to anything of worth. What was once good was twisted into a poisonous need to prove his Father's words were wrong. He would gain power at any cost, even if it meant betraying his closest friends. Even though it explained his behaviour, Annabeth couldn't think of him without feeling the sting.

And that wasn't even counting the strangeness of the other people's lives she had inadvertently delved into. After hearing of her peculiar dreams, her friends – she dared to call them that – were taken aback by the information she knew about each of them. After several awkward moments, she decided to keep most of what she had seen to herself unless those curious asked. She was unsure what she was supposed to do with the memories of past events, though evidently the Crystal had some purpose in showing her.

"You never ask me what I've seen about you," Annabeth commented.

Piper looked to her. "Would it change anything? I mean, I have seen you naked, so I think our friendship is pretty much sealed," she added jokingly.

For the sake of her dignity, Annabeth had been trying to forget the embarrassment of not being able to bathe herself, though it seemed Piper and Silena weren't about to let her pass it off as merely a horrid dream anytime soon. She wished she had been as unfazed about it as they were. If only what she was going to bring up was as light-hearted.

"I saw Jason's death," she admitted softly.

Piper's smile fell, her eyes getting a faraway look as she glanced towards the wall. "You've seen Thalia with Luke, Silena and Charlie when he was alive, the massacre at Reyna's village, Percy with Rachel, _a lot_ of Percy," she corrected with a small smirk. Annabeth felt her face heat, regretting confiding her dreams with Piper. "All things in our past. We've lived through it and moved on. _I've_ had time to move on. I don't understand what difference it would make in knowing what you've seen." Piper reached out and took Annabeth's hand. "I know you believe you were shown these things for a reason, so focus on that," she told Annabeth. "I'll be here for whatever comes next. I should get you up before someone comes." She got to her feet. "Ready?"

With a deep breath, Annabeth nodded and braced as Piper lifted her to her feet. A shift in balance, a grunt or two and she was sinking back into the mattress, shuffling to adjust her position and rearrange the pillows. She sighed as her legs ached in fatigue, her eyes drifting to the chair at the end on the room. She vowed to reach it the next time, regardless of how many falls she had to endure.

"Bad time?"

Malcolm smiled at her, pushing his leaning frame off the doorway to join her. Piper excused herself to get them food. Settling against the pillows, Annabeth didn't miss the way Malcolm's gaze trailed after Piper, nor the way she looked back over her shoulder, then look confused as to why.

"Depends on the news you give me," she replied, accepting his hug.

"I already told you, until we have some indication where Octavian is and if he's tracking you this way, they're planning blindly." He brought the chair Annabeth had been trying to reach closer before taking a seat.

Annabeth's half-brother had rushed to the compound when word had gotten to him that a true-born Athenian had been gravely injured while defeating their biggest foe. His sudden arrival raised several alarms, and it took Malcolm some time to assure them news of Annabeth's current residence with the Hunters hadn't been leaked. He eventually admitted to having set up connections in multiple villages so he could keep an ear to the ground on fellow Athenians. Thalia had to be calmed and convinced not to arrest Malcolm while he explained the process of his communications and how Octavian couldn't possibly intercept it.

Their reunion had been teary and long, having been years since their only encounter. Malcolm had grown considerably, though his body was thin in build, he had filled out. He regaled her with his tales since they had met, having travelled all over setting up networks of communication as he searched for Athenians in an attempt to keep them safe from the clutches of Arachne. Annabeth felt a little selfish and ashamed when she divulged her own adventures with the Elites, but Malcolm had been delighted nonetheless.

"Then tell me about our Mother," Annabeth said. Malcolm look resigned, even a little guilty. He had the last time she brought up the subject. "How could you not tell me?"

He pulled the dark frames from his nose, cleaning them on a small rag before placing them back on the bridge of his small, but crooked, nose. His eyes, the same colour as Annabeth's, met hers as he answered. "She didn't want me to."

"You could've stayed," she said, upset. "We could've found a way to avoid Arachne together."

Malcolm bowed his head. "I wanted to, I swear I did. But I was afraid, Annabeth. I thought that having two Athenians travelling together would be a larger beacon to Arachne. I didn't think the two of us, being so young, would be able to outwit the Mother of Spiders. I'm sorry."

"I never asked, how did you find me?"

"Our Mother," he answered. He looked a little confused by her question, as if he had assumed Annabeth had already known.

Annabeth blinked in surprise. "You met her? Spoke to her?"

"For a few minutes," he nodded. He ran a hand through his loose blonde curls, a constant habit Annabeth suspected was due to a recent haircut. "Your Father warned her that you had run away. He also mentioned that you had started asking questions about her that he wasn't prepared to answer so he assumed you'd left to find those answers. Mother knew she had to find you first before Arachne caught wind of your curiosity and set out to hunt you down. One of her contacts had tracked you to the village and alerted her that Arachne was on her way."

Annabeth recalled the screaming man at the altar and shuddered, realising he was the contact sent to tail her. "What else did Athena say?"

"Very little. Our Mother was a straight-to-the-point type of person. You were to be given a basic summary in order to understand who you were and the dangers that came with it. What you did with that information and what path you chose for yourself would be up to you, as it had been for me. You were more resourceful than I was expecting, a lot more than I was when I ventured out on my own. She must have seen your potential and guided you in the chance you would be the Athenian to end Arachne's vendetta."

"But I didn't," Annabeth said ashamedly. "Percy did."

"But you survived what was thought an impossibility," he insisted. "I talked to the healer. Yes, they developed an antidote, but its survival rate was low due to the strain it causes on the body fighting the venom. You held on, you lived." Malcolm was smiling at her.

"Why didn't she ever tell me she was there?" Annabeth demanded, almost whining. "I saw her, Malcolm. The Crystal showed me. She was watching over me this whole time."

That Crystal reveal had been the biggest surprise of them all. At first, it was the pickpocket that Annabeth followed and then learned from. Then a traveller that had patched Annabeth up following a raid mission for Luke that had went sideways; Annabeth would've bled out and been caught if she hadn't been found and taken to a nearby farming village. Then there were other smaller incidences; a stranger in a tavern watching from under a hood, another traveller that took an interest as they passed, a stall owner handing her a loaf of fresh bread as a token.

Then the scenes were washed away and replaced with another. A mother was cradling her baby in a small candlelit room. The mother was gently rocking in a chair next to a recently stripped bed. Annabeth guessed she had only just given birth. She kissed her babe softly on the forehead before murmuring with tears in her eyes and voice, "wherever you go, know that I will watch over you, and protect you, even if I cannot be with you right now. My darling Annabeth." The mother's eyes came into focus, a sharp and intelligent grey, which then morphed into the face of Annabeth's pickpocket, then the traveller, then the stranger. Each with the exact grey eyes; Malcolm's eyes, Annabeth's eyes, courtesy of their Mother.

"Why couldn't she just let me know?" she asked softly, sadly.

"I don't know, Annabeth," Malcolm murmured. "I suppose she thought it was safer."

"I thought she hated me," she admitted. "I thought she tossed me aside, left me because I was a mistake." Malcolm took her hand. "Now I find out it was all out of love. It would've been easier if she could've gone after Arachne herself."

"She couldn't break the ancient terms of a blood vengeance, Annabeth. If she had, then we wouldn't just be hunted by Arachne, but by every mercenary and town guard we encountered."

"It just seems so …" Annabeth struggled to find the right word.

"I know," Malcolm said in understanding.

"From one fighting one crazed psychopath to the next," Annabeth sighed, gazing down at her still healing body. She met Malcolm's gaze. "I need to be ready."

"You will be," he assured her. "We'll do this, okay? Together."


	20. Chapter 20

**As always, these characters do not belong to me.**

**Chapter Twenty**

"You need to fill me in on what we're going to do about Octavian," Annabeth stated.

"How about we do something else?" Percy suggested, a mischievous glint to his smile as he bent his head to meet her gaze.

She slapped his chest lightly with the back of her hand, ignoring the fluttering in her stomach. He reached down and grabbed her hand, threading his fingers through hers and kissing the top of her head as he went back to reading the report. Tucked as she was against him on the couch, Annabeth only had to tilt her head so that her ear rested against his chest, allowing her to hear the steady, rhythmic beat of his heat. She closed her eyes as she listened, squeezing his fingers lightly. She enjoyed the evenings he would join her, his warmth better than the fire that burnt merrily across from them.

"I can help," she insisted after a minute, twisting to face him. "I need to help. I'm losing my mind with boredom."

"Malcolm is more than happy to offer his opinion so you can rest."

A snort came from the chair to Annabeth's left. They both glanced at Thalia, but she merely flipped a report page. Percy's eyes were daggers in her direction, his jaw clenching from refrained comments. The cousin's bickering happened so often that it was unusual for them not to be arguing. Annabeth squeezed his hand, snatching his attention again so they could return to the conversation.

"Perce, this is ridiculous! I'm not an invalid! It's my fault these Hunters are in danger so I need to do what I can to help them. And while this affection from you is nice, I kind of get the feeling it's so you can spy on me."

A louder snort came from the nearby chair and Percy's expression showed the control on his anger was thin. "I don't need to remind you that you almost died three weeks ago?" he said, keeping his eye on Thalia for a moment longer before returning to Annabeth.

"And I don't need to remind you that if you're not going to let me do something, then I'll just go around you and find someone that will accept my help."

Thalia chuckled. "Game, set, match," she murmured cheerfully.

Percy glared at his cousin. "Maybe you should see to your Hunters defences, _Lightning Daughter_?"

Thalia's eyes narrowed. "Maybe you should stop being a controlling prick, _Pirate Prince?_"

Percy's eyes narrowed to slits. Annabeth knew about his past, about those who follow his Father had given him that title. While the followers declared it an honour, like Thalia, Percy saw his title as an omen and had tried very hard to ignore it over the years.

"Haven't you got some place to be?" he suggested. "Any other place."

"This is my house! And I graciously let you and your little crew stay here, which includes the girl you're canoodling with over there."

"It's only Annabeth and Malcolm!" he shot back. "I'm staying with Piper and Silena and the others are off tracking your lost party of Hunters."

"You hang around here all hours of the day!"

Silena entered with two cups of tea, silencing the cousins. "Maybe you should both leave so we don't have to hear your insipid arguments?"

Percy looked surly, Thalia even more so but they quelled under Silena's pointed glare. Annabeth tried to hide her smile, which was completely wiped from her face when she was handed the second cup of brewed tea. Silena was fast becoming one of Annabeth's closest friends, but the tea concoction she forced Annabeth to drink was a deal breaker. She knew the properties helped with her ongoing healing, but it's flavour was hardly what would be considered, 'tasteful'. With a sigh she sat up, letting go of Percy's hand, who, despite simmering with anger, patted her knee sympathetically.

"Perce, Annabeth's right," Silena said, taking a seat next to her. "It's foolish to keep her out of the plans." This made Percy unhappy, Thalia smug and Annabeth trying not to gag from the taste as she took a sip. "Especially since Thalia has been filling her in anyway."

"Silena!" Thalia cried as Percy glared at her.

"As if he didn't already know," Silena countered, eyeing the Hunter's outrage over her tea. "He also knows that Annabeth is defying the healer's opinion and pushing herself to walk."

Annabeth shouldn't have been surprised, but she did give him a guilty smile when their eyes met. He sighed, gave a small shake of his head and offered her a small smile.

"Honestly," Silena chided. "I don't understand why you are all so determined to keep things from each other." She shook her head. "We all need to be informed of everything if we're going to head off Octavian before we lose more innocent lives.

Glancing around the room, there was a heavy feeling of shame settling on the occupants, except for SIlena, who merely sipped her tea. After a few minutes of awkward silence and Annabeth struggling through the tea, Percy broke it.

"So, how far have you managed to walk?" he asked her.

"She's going to try and use the stairs tomorrow morning," Piper stated before Annabeth could answer. She entered the room, shaking out her hair as she took off her coat.

"Piper!" Annabeth hissed while Thalia snorted in amusement.

"Annabeth?" Percy's tone demanded an explanation.

"Malcolm was going to help Piper if something were to happen," Annabeth justified.

"Come on Cuz, would you be any different?" Thalia asked with a raised eyebrow after she shared a laugh with Silena. She got up, letting Piper take her chair as she left to do her rounds. "Would any of us?"

Percy took a deep breath, exhaling loudly. "Okay. If you're going to do this, then I'm going to be there." He smiled gently at her. "Maybe I can give you some more incentive?" Annabeth thought she may have stopped breathing, unable to take her eyes off his but a pointed cough had her ducking her head into her tea and Percy giving Piper a sideways glance.

This new side to Percy was a surprise to Annabeth, and she found she was unused to the attention. It had started once she was transferred to Thalia's house. Just small gestures: holding her hand, wrapping an arm around her, or giving her peck as he was leaving on an errand. It was the casualness of showing his affection, especially in front of other people that she wasn't used to. She never received such acute attention before, but she was getting accustomed to it quite quickly.

Annabeth struggled to finish her tea as their conversation shifted to guessing the whereabouts of Will, Nico, Clarisse and Chris, who, as Percy mentioned, had finally succumbed to Thalia's request and left to search for Zoë's party of Hunters. Nico was their best tracker, but Zoë had been the best of the Hunters. Annabeth could see worry mar Percy's face as the conversation drew on. The party had missed two of their allotted check-in time with their next time scheduled sometime that night. If they missed another, they would be deemed either captured or killed and it was a grim outlook for the three people sitting with Annabeth.

Eventually, Annabeth found herself being carried up the stairs by Percy. She had time getting used to being carried like a child to and from her room, but there was still that part of her pride that couldn't wait to finally be independent again. To her surprise, he let her down at the door of her room, letting her take the dozen or so steps to her bed on her own. While it wasn't far, it said a lot more towards Percy's acceptance of her stubbornness. He had even resisted trailing behind her in case she fell, which she was grateful of.

"So, when did you know?" she asked once she was settled in bed.

"About the physical rehabilitation or feeding Thalia information?" he asked with a grin.

"Both."

Percy pushed off the door frame, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I could see you regaining some of your old strength and as much as I hate to admit it when Thalia's right, I would've done everything I could to get back to where I was."

"And the plans?"

Percy smiled faintly. "Thalia is great at many things. Strategy is just not one of them. When her suggestions started to make sense, I suspected."

"Then why go to all the trouble of stopping me from helping?"

He gazed down at his lap. "I don't like this," he admitted quietly. "I don't like any of it. I just, I have a bad feeling."

Annabeth gazed down for the briefest of seconds, knowing that feeling all too well. She had assumed it was because of her dreams from the Crystal and maybe it was, but they were both fighters, and instincts, especially in fights, shouldn't be ignored. If she could just discover what it was she was missing.

"You can't shield everyone," she told him gently.

"Haven't you said something like that before?" he asked, glancing up with a wry smile.

"I think a lot of people have told something along those lines before," she countered, causing Percy to laugh.

He gazed at her, his eyes twinkling with the vestiges of his laugh. "I'm sorry," he apologised softly, not breaking her stare.

Her smile was light as she placed a hand against his face. She leaned in and kissed him as a way of forgiveness, lingering to savour the feeling of his lips against hers. She pulled back only enough to meet his stare, her heart beating quicker the longer she stared. She decided one kiss was not enough; she wanted, no needed, more.

Annabeth kissed him again, then again as he turned towards her, his hand cupping her chin to deepen their kiss. All the small affectionate gestures and words had been building to this and Annabeth lost herself to her pent-up emotions. She leant into his body, her arms worming around his back and then up into his hair. He tasted of freshwater and that sweet scent on a spring's breeze and she just couldn't stop wanting to taste more.

Percy's free hand drifted down, his fingers skimming the flesh of her hip, moving up and across her ribs, lifting her shirt in the process. Not that she cared, not when her own hands moved to the hem of his shirt, pulling it free from his pants. She grabbed his collar and practically pulled him on top of her. He grunted slightly but didn't resist, his hand reaching down, skirting past her belly button, when there was a knock at the door, the person opening it before Annabeth had a chance to tell them to go away.

"Oh, sorry," Silena said, grinning as the two broke apart. "Perce, Thalia needs to speak to you."

Percy looked chagrined, his lips slightly swollen and his hair tousled more than usual as he tried to regain some composure. He didn't move off her though. Annabeth ducked her head into the crook of his shoulder, embarrassed. She was at least grateful it hadn't been a minute or two later, then it would have really been compromising. Her face heated at the thought.

"Does it have to be right now?" he asked, his voice husky.

"I'm afraid so."

Percy looked at Annabeth, frustrated and apologetic. He gave her a quick kiss and got up, following Silena out, straightening his shirt and trying to flatten his hair into some sort of order.

"Do I need to dowse you in water so you can cool down?" she asked him jokingly as they walked down the hall. Annabeth smiled through her blush thinking she might need to take a cool bath herself.

* * *

Percy didn't carry her to her room again, mostly due to Annabeth's improved mobility, but it reduced the time they had to themselves. She tried to think of that as good thing, considering they needed to be focusing on the impending battle, but every so often her mind would drift to his kiss, the feel of his hands on her body and she would instantly become distracted. Silena thankfully hadn't felt the need to share what she saw with the others, though she had a hint of a smirk every time she spotted the two of them next to each other.

Once Annabeth had conquered the stairs and was walking more freely, Malcolm decided that her mind needed to be sharpened after the combined attack from the venom and the Crystal. This Annabeth could get behind, having been some time since she had been challenged mentally. It started with short simple tests while her mind was preoccupied with walking, stretching or if she felt strong, jogging. He rose the difficulty after each success until they were both satisfied her mind didn't have any lingering effects of the venom.

Malcolm and Annabeth spent their evenings after dinner playing a board game of strategy and will after he had discovered the game amongst Thalia's discarded possessions. Squaring off, the siblings were lost in thought as they tried to predict and then counteract the moves of their opponent while the other occupants watched or talked quietly about other matters. Annabeth spun her white pebble between her fingers, having two places she could potentially place it on the board. Depending on the placement would determine the trajectory of her strategy. Having only been shown the game recently, Malcolm seemed unsurprised by how well she had picked it up.

"Talk me through your thought process?" Malcolm asked.

"And give away my game?" she replied.

Malcolm smiled. "You don't think I already know your strategy?"

"Why do you think I'm deliberating?" Malcolm chuckled, placing up his hands. "The question is," Annabeth continued with a smile. "How will you beat me, when I know exactly what you're going to do?"

Three moves later, she placed down her white pebble, waiting as Malcolm took stock of her move, realising she had pinned him in to making only one move, which would concede a sure defeat. He tipped his head back and laughed, grasping her forearm across the table after surrendering. He began picking up his pebbles, restarting their board.

"That isn't right," Thalia commented, looking unsettled. "You two are siblings. Why don't you argue like it?"

"I think you and Percy do enough arguing for every sibling in the village," Silena told her, earning several smirks and a couple of scowls followed by a very pointed, and very colourful, suggestion of where Silena could place the pebbles.

"It really is a feat considering you're not siblings, but cousins," Piper added before taking a sip of her mead, handing a cup to Annabeth.

Thalia had a few other colourful words she said to Piper, before arguing back. "We can get along." She stared pointedly over her flagon at Percy to back her up.

"Sure," Percy agreed half-heartedly. "If we try, we probably could."

"Maybe give us a couple more months together and we might start bickering?" Annabeth suggested, shrugging at Malcolm, who grinned, placing his tile down to begin their new game.

Reyna entered shortly after the second game got underway, relaying information to Percy and Thalia, after accepting a cup from Silena. The tension between Reyna and Piper had slowly dissipated the longer the two were in each other's presence so it was not unusual to see the two nod to each other in greeting. Annabeth was half-listening to her report about still not finding any alluding evidence from the earlier communications of Nico and the others to finding any trace of Lady Artemis. They had missed their third deadline, sending a sombre mood throughout the house. Thalia, with Percy reluctant but agreeing, refused to send any further search parties.

Annabeth frowned as placed her pebble, her mind working quick to place pieces. She glanced down at the board, to the pebbles already in place, converting them to their situation. With her next turn, she placed her pebble deliberately in the wrong place, but exactly where she assumed Nico would have been if he were following a trail. Malcolm pounced on her mistake, taking that pebble and her collection of pebbles beside it from the board. Her eyes darted unseeingly to the other white stones on the board; the cluster, the lone stone, the four surrounded by the black stones …

"Reyna." Annabeth started, gazing towards the mercenary. Malcolm paused after hearing her tone. "What were Octavian's exact words he preached in your village?"

"Haven't you already seen that?" she questioned, taken a little aback by Annabeth's directness. She had been reluctant to believe Annabeth's visions and refused to hear what she had seen, simply taking her word for it and leaving it at that.

"No. Not him." Annabeth noticed Malcolm staring at the board, trying to see what she had.

"I'm not sure," she answered, wrinkling her nose. "I hated that religion. My family had a different set of beliefs. Most of our village did until he came along."

"What are you getting at, Annabeth?" Piper asked curiously.

"He took Percy to the Cave as an offering to the Crystal," she began to explain, noting Percy's brief scowl. "It was the same reason he captured me. But what if he now believes, that merely sacrificing subjects to the object of his desire is not enough? What if, he believes in order to wield the Crystal and lead his 'children', then he himself needs power? He would, in turn, start preaching sacrifices are done in his name." Malcolm sat back ever so slightly, placing those same pieces Annabeth did together. He took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"If that's true, then he would capture the strongest people," Percy continued. He looked at Annabeth realising where her train of thoughts were heading, then looked to Thalia.

"Lady Artemis," Thalia breathed. Annabeth was surprised she didn't start cursing.

"She was led into a trap?" Silena exclaimed in surprise.

"Arachne," Malcolm deduced, his eyes meeting his sister's. "He wasn't just going for Luke and the Crystal at the Elite compound. He wanted her as well. And now …"

Annabeth nodded, coming to the same conclusion. Percy's hand weaved through hers, catching on as his gaze fell on her.

"He'll be after you two," Piper voiced, staring across at their entwined hands. Everyone was now looking at Percy and Annabeth, their expressions solemn.

"Bloodlines," Reyna muttered suddenly, causing everyone's eyes to dart to her. "One of the followers I captured spoke of bloodlines. _Pure_ bloodlines."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. There was four of them in the room that fell into that category.

The 'Purebloods' were a group of individuals who had been allegedly 'blessed' on the night of a blood moon. They were said to be stronger, faster and smarter, each fused with their own unique talents to rival any man or woman. They were consequently hunted and challenged for the rights of their 'power', each opponent determined to take it for themselves and be declared, 'pure'. All challengers and hunting parties were slain and eventually the Purebloods were left alone, revered and feared by all.

Annabeth had thought the story had been bullshit, even though she was the daughter of one of the said blessed. She wasn't special, wasn't gifted with enhanced strength or speed. She had scoffed at such words, but had wondered … after Will had admitted that the Crystal wasn't the only powerful object in the world, maybe these individuals, these Purebloods, had something in their possession that would give some fact to the stories of enhanced abilities.

"Zoë is one of the pures," Thalia told them, before placing her head in her hands, her voice low as she added, "I sent Nico to find her."

"Nico is a pure?" Silena turned to Percy for confirmation.

"He doesn't like to speak of it," Percy answered before glancing towards Thalia, her inherited electric blue eyes stark against her pale face. "None of us do."

"I think they'll be alive, for now," Malcolm interjected. Annabeth glanced over and was surprised to see him quietly fuming. Or course! They had just escaped one sacrificial threat, only to be thrust into the path of another, because of their linage. "They won't be as supposedly powerful as Annabeth and Percy. If he's as selfish as we believe, he would want the most advantageous for him before settling for meagre offerings."

"But Lady Artemis is," Thalia argued.

"She'll be the final sacrifice," Malcolm said, rubbing the stubble on his cheek thoughtfully. "He would want to prove how powerful he is in front of as many people as possible."

"That's if she hasn't already been sacrificed," Piper said grimly.

"No, Malcolm's right," Reyna said. "We need to find the Huntress. Break one key link in his plan and he'll be thrown into disarray. He might even decide to order his army into finding her, rather than attack the village."

"Or we keep Percy and Annabeth safe?" Silena offered. "They're supposed to be integral to his plan as well, aren't they?"

"If Octavian has captured Nico, Zoë and their scouting parties he might deem them equal enough to our perceived power," Annabeth said. "Lady Artemis is the key."

"The Hunters have been searching for a month now and haven't found her," Piper told Annabeth. "How will we? Especially now our best tracker is probably captured too. It's been what, two weeks since we last heard from them? We could start sending parties out again but then we could be left with an even smaller number of fighters to defend the village. I say that unless we know exactly where they're being kept, we focus on defending the village."

"We can't abandon them," Silena disagreed. "I understand what you're saying, but there has to be a way to work out where they're being kept without leaving the village."

"We'll comb through everything again," Percy promised. His tone was encouraging, but Annabeth could see the tightness of doubt around his eyes. "Maybe with two Athenians, a mercenary and a handsome Pirate Prince that has been all over, we can work it out." He got several eye rolls, a few smiles and a heavy snort, but his words did lighten the mood, if only slightly. He faced Thalia. "Call your Hunters to arms and every other ally you can wrangle. We're going to need every last diversion and defensive tactic we can come up with to win this."

* * *

Hunters were briefed and sent to work the following morning. The village was alerted to the oncoming threat and many hastened to secure their homes and stalls before helping to make weapons and defensive spikes from the nearby trees. The Hunters darted in and out of the village, using their treetop bridges and platforms and reporting to Thalia almost every hour. If any had complaints about the danger their visitors had brought, they didn't express it.

The visitors weren't excluded from the preparations but were also heavily involved. Reyna would leave as the sun rose and often would not return until long after the sun would set, her spear and clothes splattered with blood. Percy stayed with Thalia, which had raised some questions at first, but they were soon silenced. They may enjoy arguing with each other, but when it came to the welfare of the others, they worked flawlessly together.

Once the decisions were made, Percy would hit the training area, sparring with Piper and the Hunters, or against the straw dummies. Annabeth joined as well, but she tired easily, much to her disgust. She could only hope she wouldn't get as winded when it was time for the fight. Silena, meanwhile, helped the healers gather herbs and make bandages and salves.

Being the children of Athena, Malcolm and Annabeth were tasked to come up with a defensive plan. They each applied different strategies to the map, casting their thoughts and manoeuvres until they were both positive in its outcome. They warned the others that variations were bound to occur, and the plan would need to be adjusted according to those deviances. The main problem was that they still had no idea what type of numbers they would be coming up against. Despite the scout's desperate attempts, they still couldn't find Octavian and his army, only his own scouts, but they wouldn't yield any answers, even with the fearful She-Wolf torturing them.

Annabeth noticed Malcolm becoming quieter as their plan came into focus. She could see his thoughts heading in several other directions, trying to solve the problems they still had. Annabeth let him work on that, while she frantically tried to return to fighting fit. She was walking yes, but she needed to train, to spar. She had seen Percy watch her, the words on the edge of his lips that if she heard, she would punch them right back into his throat. There was no way she was sitting out of the battle ahead of them; it just wasn't an option. It wasn't until evening set a few days after their discovery that she realised Malcolm had solved the problem, but it had been the answer he had been struggling with.

"Were you just going to leave without saying goodbye?" Annabeth asked, stepping into view.

Excusing herself as twilight began, she headed straight to the main gate, waiting in the shadows until her brother passed her. She had wanted to sound angry, wanting to sound betrayed by his departure but it was hard when she knew he was leaving out of necessity, and that she would do the same if the positions were reversed.

Malcolm glanced back to her, bowing his head briefly when he saw who it was. "You know," he started conversationally. "I've never actually had anyone to say goodbye to before." He gave her a sad smile, then strode back and wrapped her in a tight hug. She squeezed him gently, pressing her cheek against his collarbone as he rested his against her shoulder. "I wish we had more time together. Maybe we will, after this is over." He pulled back, tears in his eyes before he blinked them away, sobering. "I'll find him and send word as soon as I can."

"What if you're caught?" she asked, needing to be practical. Inside, her stomach constricted with worry.

"I've been a chameleon all my life," he told her, that sad smile back on his face. "They will never know who I really am."

He stepped up onto the saddle, reaching down to clasp her forearm with his. He smiled at her again, before urging his horse forward, throwing up his hood. Annabeth watched him leave, unused to the concern she was feeling. Eventually she wandered back to Thalia's house, filling them in on Malcolm's plan. There were protests, concerns and some heavy swearing flooding her ears. Reyna ceased it all when she demanded their attention, using her cold logic to agree with his decision. Not feeling like giving further explanations, she headed to her room, collapsing onto the bed and staring unseeingly up at the ceiling. Thankfully, the others gave her some space and eventually she drifted asleep.

* * *

She was dreaming again. She was led through the memories of her friends, but there was something unusual about the scenes. They were directed, focused, but not by Annabeth. And they were on repeat in her mind. Some instances, such as Piper's, was a fleeting look as she cantered through forest. Some, like Reyna and Percy's lingered. They were camped around a fire, merely talking. They looked younger, probably during their days as partnered mercenaries. The conversation was muted so Annabeth knew it was unimportant but then the scene went back to Piper. It took another rotation before Annabeth understood; she was being shown the location.

It was an alcove, worn into the cliff face from years of weather and erosion. It provided the perfect shelter and with a clear view of the surrounds so ambushes would be futile. Judging by the forest's vegetation, Annabeth guessed it was near the Hunter's village, possibly further north-east. But why would Annabeth keep seeing that particular spot, unless …

Annabeth shot up into a sitting position, heart bounding as she declared into the darkness, "I know where to find Lady Artemis."


	21. Chapter 21

**As always, these characters do not belong to me.**

**Readers be advised: Sexual references**

**Chapter Twenty-One**

Their horses were saddled and laden with supplies, their weapons cleaned and sharpened. Annabeth stood with Percy, Piper and Silena at the entrance gate, saying their goodbyes. Annabeth kept gripping at her wrist, alternating between threading her fingers around her token and the crinkled cryptic note she received the previous morning. She closed her eyes for the briefest of seconds, hoping the sender was still hidden precariously amongst their enemy.

"How long do you think it'll take you to get there?" Thalia asked Percy.

"Hard to say," he replied, glancing to his companions. "We'll get there as soon as we can, but we might be stretching it thin. You still enacting those defensive plans?"

Thalia nodded. "Let's hope they work."

"Two Athenians designed it for you, it'll work," Percy pointed out, then smiled, grasping her forearm.

"It's the numbers I'm more concerned about," she muttered.

"I've sent word to some of my contacts," said Reyna, coming across to say goodbye to Percy. "If they come, we'll have some promising numbers."

"If," Thalia repeated grumpily. "I hate not knowing." She faced Annabeth. "How does the armour fit?"

"Really well," Annabeth said in surprise, testing her movement for the dozenth time and still yet to find a flaw. "It's feels so light," she commented.

"Has to be," Thalia confirmed. "But don't let its weight deceive you. It will still protect your skin as well as any heavy armour."

"That may be," Silena started, gazing at her own armour with a wrinkled nose. "But does it really need to be so, constricting?"

"Don't mind her," Piper butted in, grinning. "She's just not used to wearing armour. Why didn't you bring yours?" she asked, rounding to Silena.

"I don't have armour," she grunted. "I'm a lover, not a fighter," she added primly.

Piper snorted with a shake of her head, getting up onto her horse. Silena and Annabeth followed suit, Percy murmuring something to Thalia before he too, leapt up and they departed the Hunter's compound. Despite a debated discussion on what route to take, they needed pace and efficiency, and as much as they wanted to remain anonymous, they knew that racing along the woven trails between towns was their best way at freeing Lady Artemis.

It had been several days of a constant, nagging worry for Annabeth before Malcolm had managed to get word back to them. The message, left for the scouts to find, had been coded and it took Annabeth an hour before she was able to decipher his warning. The number of cultist and bandits heading to the village had been staggering, so much so that Thalia ordered it to remain between them to keep the morale for dropping any further. However, she conceded they had been fortunate that the two Athenians had countered for that, so their set plan didn't need too much tweaking.

As for their missing friends, Malcolm confirmed they had been captured. He hadn't been able to get close enough to see their condition, but he assured them they were all still alive. Lady Artemis hadn't been with them and he hadn't found her location yet, but that didn't matter, not when Annabeth knew where she could be found. Maps had been poured over, memories had been plucked clean and finally a location had been deduced. With an inside man and allies waiting to be freed, the final key was to reach her before she was moved, before it was too late to thwart Octavian's plan.

Even by travelling through backroads frequented by the Hunters and close-knit villages for trading goods back and forth, the party tried to avoid passing through and stopping in the villages. Time was of the essence and they couldn't waste it finding places to stay and answering questions from curious villagers. That didn't stop most of the passers-by on the road from stopping and watching the party fly past, especially when they believed two Hunters were travelling with armoured strangers.

By the third day of hard travelling, they needed to stop and rest. It was Silena who suggested it, who believed that taking fatigued horses into thick forest was going to result in an injury causing misstep. They wanted to be swift, she understood that, but being swift had to also mean efficiency and running their mounts into the ground wasn't 'efficient'. Percy agreed with a sigh, signalling to Piper who was scouting ahead to find some sort of lodgings.

Annabeth was hurting. Her lack of recovery time was wearing hard on her body, but she kept it to herself, even if Piper and Percy kept eyeing her furtively from their saddles. And Percy wasn't fooling anyone by his decision that the horses were the only ones that needed rest. Silena too, for that matter, but Annabeth was grateful. Piper re-joined them, spotting a farmhouse not too far from their current position but off the road enough not to raise questions or easily ambushed. They approached at a cautious walk, Annabeth and Silena taking the lead in the hopes their armour would dispel any idea of bandits or rogue soldiers. It was clear to Annabeth once they were on the property that the house was empty.

Sharing a glance with Silena, the two of them slid from their saddles, Annabeth almost falling from shaky legs. Percy and Piper grabbed their reins, eyes searching the surrounding field, hands on weapons. Annabeth and Silena walked up the three steps to the front veranda, noting the once meticulous garden beds overgrown with weeds, overripe and rotting vegetables, and wild herbs. The door creaked as it was opened, a layer of dust wafting up to go with the dank smell that met their nostrils.

The house was a mess. Furniture was upturned, pillows destroyed with feathers coating the living room. Back windows had been smashed in with rocks, the few remaining shards left in the pane looking rather shaky. A drawing of what Annabeth thought was a couple was still hanging on the wall, but the picture had been slashed, making faces undiscernible. Silena signalled to the other two the house with a shrill whistle as Annabeth walked around the island bench, stomach dropping when she noticed the small pool of what she suspected was blood. Silena joined her there.

"What happened to them?" Silena asked in a hushed whisper.

"Bandits," Annabeth answered grimly, before stepping into what used to be the kitchen, towards the stain.

"Do you think they, the woman …"

Annabeth's expression gave Silena her answer, and she paled at the thought, looking slightly ill. Annabeth didn't enjoy thinking about the fate of the woman in the hands of bandits, but there was nothing they could do for her or whoever else she was living with. A quick inspection of the house revealed more damaged rooms and strewn items deemed useless to thieving eyes; but it was empty and would serve their needs for the night.

Silena, unable to stand the thought of the fate of the previous owners, began tidying up the once quaint home. Piper and Percy entered as Silena finished placing pots and the remaining whole plates and cups onto the intact shelves. They watched her clean and she stared at them, her expression was one of teary defiance, almost daring them to say what was on their mind. Instead they helped, Percy grabbing the remaining cutlery and handing them to her, while Piper found the broom and swept up the broken shards. Annabeth watched the family work silently together before she too, helped to tidy up their night lodgings.

With the threat of bandits roaming the area under the protection of Octavian's army, they decided to have a watcher on the outskirts of the property throughout the night. Annabeth volunteered for the first shift, if only to get out from the watchful eyes of her companions to stretch and massage out the knots in her muscles in solitude. The afternoon sun kept the chill at bay, and she basked in its falling rays as the surrounding forest and roads remained silent and empty.

She was relieved later in the night by Percy, who reached out and brushed his fingers against her arm, travelling them down to her hand as they passed each other. Annabeth glanced back, a frown of confusion on her face but he was already looking towards the road, the moment of affection passing. She continued to glance back to his moonlit, silhouetted outline, the grumbling of her stomach the only reason she did not return to his side. The girls had left Annabeth some broth to eat, already settled around the recently cleaned fireplace. The mood was sombre, each occupant lost in their thoughts. While their campfires were always marred by their task, the death of the household owners made their own deaths seem more probable.

Annabeth felt it. She wasn't as strong as she used to be. She was tiring quicker and that wasn't even when she was fighting for her life. She had been grappling with that self-doubt since the beginning of their journey, which was only fuelled by her companion's sidelong glances. Doubt killed soldiers. Arrows, swords and spears were mere tools; it was the soldier's doubt in their abilities that provided the opportunities to strike. If Annabeth were to survive, she needed to regain her confidence.

Having no desire to seep further into the darkened mood in the living room, Annabeth claimed the small spare room, quickly using the wash basin to clear some of the dirt and grime of hard travelling from her skin. She glanced down at her scar, tracing its smooth edges with her fingers. Could Arachne had foreseen this? If she couldn't execute death, then she would cripple an Athenian with their own self-doubt?

No, Annabeth was overthinking it. No one had survived Arachne's blade; none but her. And she would likely be the only one unless some other sadistic person had retrieved the foul knife from the Elite compound. She had to stop seeing herself as weakened. Sure, they were side-effects, but she would handle them, _could_ handle them, and she would be better for it. She threw a shirt on, covering the scar from view, resolve settling in to dispel her doubt.

Laying on the mattress, Annabeth found herself staring up at the ceiling, too many thoughts preventing her from sleeping. Even with his assurances, she was desperately worried about Malcolm. She wanted him at her side, if only to distract her mind with strategy games or long-winded discussions she couldn't have with anyone else. She wasn't sure how long she had been lying there when a soft knock came upon her door, Percy entering when she answered.

"Is it my turn for watch?" she asked sleepily. She stifled a yawn as she rose to her feet.

"No," he said gruffly. Annabeth noticed a difference in his tone. "Piper's just gone out and then Silena is taking the graveyard shift so you can have some rest."

"Oh, okay good." Annabeth scrunched up her nose at how she sounded. His presence was disarming. She thought of their earlier interaction. What if it was his way of saying he was worried about her? "I'm fine, you know?" she told him "You and Piper don't need to keep tabs on me. Or check on me if that's what you're doing."

One side of his lips quirked. "What if I want to check on you?"

"Is that why you're here?" Annabeth asked. For some reason, her heartbeat quickened.

"It's one reason," he answered softly. He blew out a nervous breath, looking around the small room as if he were trying to steel himself to say his next words.

Why was her stomach fluttering? They hadn't really been together since the evening Silena had interrupted them. With everything that had been going on, it hadn't really been in the forefront of her mind; she definitely wasn't counting her dreams, even if they painted another, _vivid_, picture. Sure, there had been light kisses and the occasional hug, but they hadn't actively sort each other out to be alone together. Until now.

"I was thinking about the people that lived here while I was on watch. They were a young couple. I saw a photo of them in their room." He smiled wistfully at the wall near her face, before casting his eyes down. "I realised I want this. The house, the horses, the fields, all of it." He looked at her then, his beautiful green eyes full of intent. "I want this with you." Had Annabeth fallen asleep?

"I, I wasn't expecting it," he continued. "No, that's not it. I wasn't expecting _you_. I had thought I knew what love was, what it felt like and then I met you and, I realised, I had no idea."

It was not a dream. Annabeth was frozen, unable to do anything but stare at him. At the person that had changed her life so completely, that continued to change her life, just by being with her. He had shown her what true feelings could be like, what true loyalty and friendship was. He had shown her what it was to truly give your heart to someone and have it accepted and nurtured and healed. He did all that for her. She couldn't recall the moment when she had given her heart to him, only that she had. That scared her; scared and enlivened her.

He smiled nervously, running a hand through his hair. "This was, I, uh, this was silly, I'm sorry." He started rambling as he made his way sheepishly towards the door. "I'll leave you to get some rest. I don't know what I was thinking, forget I came in."

"Wait," Annabeth called out softly.

Percy paused, turning back to face her, their gazes meeting as she walked towards him. She wasn't sure what she was doing, but at the same time, she knew exactly what she was doing. With slow but steady movements, she brought her hands up to his face, feeling the contours under her fingertips, tracing every inch of his face. She focused on her hands, of the feeling of him as his eyes closed with her. Her hands drifted down, tugging his shirt up and over his head.

She had seen him bare chested plenty of times before, but this was different because she was the one to pull his shirt over his broad shoulders. She was the one to touch his bare skin. She was the one to see every scar and trace it. She was the one to drift her hands up his strong arms, across his back, his ribs, taking her time to trace his body before resting her hand on his chest, feeling the erratic thumping of his heart. She met his gaze through her eyelashes, his expression taking her breath away. She managed a soft, fluttery gulp of air before she grabbed Percy's wrist, guiding his hand to the hem of her shirt.

Her skin tingled as Percy finger's glided across her body, memorising everything about her. Annabeth found herself trying to control her breathing from his touch, her heart already fluttering wildly in her chest. His fingers traced the scar at her stomach and his eyes crumpled ever so slightly. She placed a hand on his cheek, letting him know it was okay, she was okay. He cupped her face in gentle hands, the tenderness returning. He dipped his head, placing his lips against her collarbone. Annabeth sighed, encouraging him to explore her body with his lips. His kisses moved to her neck, his hands floating up her back, which she mimicked with light caresses, causing his skin to erupt in small goose bumps with each caress. His kisses rose to her jawline, her head turning to accommodate his lingering kisses before he eventually found her lips.

Their kisses were unhurried, solidifying what they both knew to be true but never voiced. Gently tugging at his hips, Annabeth pulled him towards the bed, never breaking their kiss as their pants joined their shirts. Percy paused in his kisses once they found the mattress, his eyes taking everything in as he hovered above her. She reached up, tracing his cheek with her fingers. She memorised his face in that moment, the tender look in his eyes, the way his lips parted just that tiny bit; she had never seen something so beautiful that she could claim as hers. For he was hers, and she was his. He dipped his head, and a searing kiss had both of them falling.

* * *

Moonlight streamed through the broken window where the second half of the curtain would have been, bathing the lovers in its light. Percy and Annabeth faced each other, their bodies close but not touching, simply staring at each other. Annabeth had never felt so relaxed, so safe with another person. She had never given in to the simple pleasure of touching someone else, to feel the sparks of their life against the palm of her hand or the pads of her fingertips, to feel something missing if she wasn't touching them.

"Do the burn scars bother you?" he asked her softly.

"Hmm?" Annabeth hadn't realised where her fingers were swirling lazily was on the shoulder blade that held the scar. "No, they don't," she said, smiling softly. "And I would be a hypocrite if I was to say scars bothered me." Percy grinned. "I am curious though. Just how heroic and selfless were you when you got them?"

Percy scoffed but tilted his head up to stare thoughtfully at the ceiling. "There was a village," he began, his fingers gently running up and down her arm. "Small. Probably not worth the time to visit for most travellers. They were being terrorised by their own town guard. They would take most of their supplies, hoarding it for themselves or to sell for a profit in an abandoned mansion overlooking the ocean. The townsfolk were on their last rations when I came across them.

"They had no way to pay me, but I couldn't let them starve. So, I snuck up to that mansion and began to smuggle the hoarded supplies out. Some of the food had already gone off, but that didn't matter to the soldiers, not when they had other commodities they could sell for a profit elsewhere. I managed to smuggle most of the unspoilt food out when I was caught.

"A scuffle ensued," he said quietly, his voice slightly strained. "One of the guards ran in to help his friends, but he dropped the torch he was holding next to a leaking barrel of ale." Percy's jaw clenched. "We all stopped and watched as the flames hit the ale, racing towards the other barrels and then there was this wave of heat, followed by the noise.

"I was standing next to one of the windows when everything exploded. The force knocked me out of the house and tumbling over the cliff into the water. I had flinched from it, you see, and my shoulder copped the brunt of the explosion. As soon as I hit the water, it doused the flames, but I was already burnt and injured. I must have made my way onto some debris and floated with the current: that part is a bit hazy," he added.

"I wound up at an even smaller fishing village, who thankfully had a woman who used to be a healer in one of the major cities. She patched me up as best she could, but the burn was already too blistered and scarred when they found me."

"And the townspeople?"

Percy smiled at her tone. "The few patrolmen that had seen me died in the explosion, so many of the others thought it had been a drunken freak accident by the others. They lost interest in hoarding after that and their people had their livelihoods again. Though they never did see the mercenary again. He's just a tale they tell their children from what I hear."

Annabeth laughed, her fingers tracing the scar again. "Percy the Selfless, that's what they should call you," she said jokingly.

His lips quirked briefly before becoming serious. "I'm selfish," he said quietly. "When it comes to you." Annabeth's smile dropped from her face. "No matter what happens, I will always choose you," he admitted.

Dangerous. Those were dangerous words, but Percy knew that. He knew tying himself emotionally to one person, especially when they were about to fight for their lives, was both a strength and a weakness. Annabeth placed her hand against his cheek, feeling the exact same. She loved all her friends dearly, but she loved him, this impossible, often irritating man, more. He kissed her, shifting to fuse their bodies together once more as their kiss deepened.

* * *

Annabeth woke in a daze. Taking a few seconds to register why, she glanced around the room, settling on Percy's sleeping figure at her side. She couldn't help the smile that came to her face as she watched him, his back rising and falling, his face turned in her direction with his arm outstretched and nestled across her ribs. She didn't know if sleeping on his stomach was altogether comfortable, but he appeared to be content. He looked younger, strands of his fringe falling over his eyes. She brushed them away, smiling as he sighed happily at her touch.

Trying not to disturb him, she shuffled under his hold, almost getting out before his arm tightened, pulling her back down.

"Stay," he grunted sleepily. His eyes were still closed but she knew he was very aware of where she was.

She smiled, leaning back over and kissed his cheek. "You can sleep for a few more minutes. I didn't mean to wake you."

She ran her fingers through his hair affectionally, and he hummed lightly in response. She turned to leave, again, but Percy was quicker, wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her back against him. She smiled again, this time a little wearily though he couldn't see it.

"Perce …" she said, her tone a little exasperated.

"They won't notice," he murmured against her ear. "Only a few more minutes."

He kissed her ear lobe, trailing little kisses down her neck. He held her securely against his chest and she couldn't help but tilt her head, giving him better access to place his kisses. She knew she should be leaving, but he was very good at being distracting. His lips made their way across the back of her shoulder, sending shivers down her body. While he continued to kiss her, his fingers tracing across her ribs was lightly making circles on her skin, before they started to drift down her body, past her stomach, reaching her bellybutton, continuing their downward path.

Her heart started to beat faster, her breath catching. He was too good at this, she thought distantly. And she was too vulnerable to his seduction.

"I have to go. Percy… Perce … I need to … bathroom," she admitted quickly and breathlessly. "I need the bathroom."

His kisses paused, as did his roaming fingers. She almost whimpered when he released her, his breath escaping in a huff as he laid back down on the mattress. She took a couple of breaths before turning back to give him an apologetic smile. He looked a little dispirited but they both knew he couldn't really stay mad at her. He looked at her, a tender smile hovering on his lips. She leant back over, brushing his hair away from his face (she really needed to control that urge!), leaving her hand on his cheek.

It was just too tempting, she thought as she brought her lips to his. He was just too kissable. Or maybe she was just lovesick. She had planned on it being just a peck, a sort of, 'sorry I need to attend to physical needs' type of kiss but again, he had other intentions, and she allowed him to deepen it. His fingers brushed her cheekbones, threading their way through her hair as their kisses grew in passion. She pulled away before he could intoxicate her, her heart hammering against her chest.

"Nice try," she said, glad to hear her voice was steady. He grinned but said nothing.

She felt his eyes watch her intently from his position on the bed as she gathered her clothes and moved across the room. As she closed the door behind her, she blew out a deep breath, debating where she needed to take a cool bath as well to douse her raging hormones. The best she could do was splash her face several times, taking her time to fix her armour before joining the Piper and Silena, trying to keep nonchalant.

Percy entered the living room a few minutes later, appearing as if nothing had happened, yawning and scratching at the back of his head as he casually took a seat beside Annabeth. She was very keenly aware of his presence, and the space between them. Even though he sat closer than he normally did, it felt like a mile. She sighed lightly into her bowl, needing to stop being so blinded by him. They didn't linger long, leaving the abandoned house behind as they entered the forest, Percy scouting ahead; maybe he needed space to re-focus as well.

"How was your night on watch?" Silena asked Piper an hour or two into their slow trek through the trees. Her tone was too light and cheery, causing Annabeth's suspicions to rise. She had also deliberately dropped back with Piper so they were walking next to each other.

"It was fine, but I heard this strange moaning all night," Piper answered. She turned to Annabeth, a sly grin fluttering on her face. "Did you hear anything Annabeth? It was near your bedroom."

Annabeth felt her face heat as she tried desperately to keep her face expressionless. "No, I didn't."

"Huh? How odd," she commented, looking confused.

"You know, I thought I heard something too," Silena added, not bothering to hide her smirk. "It was almost like, I don't know, thumping. You wouldn't know about that, would you Annabeth?"

"What's it going to take to make you stop?" Annabeth asked, knowing her face was aflame. The two girls laughed.

"Don't take it the wrong way, we're happy for you and Percy," Piper assured her, smiling.

"Yeah," Silena agreed. "I mean, it took you two long enough. I was getting tired of pushing you two together. You're both as stubborn as rocks."

"The real question is," Piper added slyly, after a minute or two of silence. "What did he say to finally convince you to sleep with him?"

"Maybe he didn't say anything," Silena suggested. "He does have that strange habit of whipping his shirt off whenever he feels like it. Maybe he just stripped off?" Annabeth wanted to know how this conversation could end and quickly.

"True," Piper agreed. "He isn't the most eloquent with words. "Maybe he just said, 'let's get to it'?" Annabeth really wanted to find a hole to crawl in.

"Annabeth wouldn't settle for that, surely," Silena tsked. "He would've had to been dashing. Doesn't really sound like him, does it?" Annabeth decided that she didn't need friends. Being alone was so much better.

"What about a smouldering look?" Piper said with a snap of her fingers. "I bet that was it!"

Annabeth whistled to Percy, urging her horse forward to meet him as Silena and Piper giggled loudly. Percy hurried back, noting the crimson blush on her cheeks as she moved in front of him.

"What's wrong?" he asked, half concern, half wary.

"My turn to scout," was all she said as hurried to avoid any further suggestive remarks.

"What did you say to her?" he demanded to Piper and Silena as they continued to chuckle.

Annabeth remained ahead for the rest of the day. The further along they trekked, she began to notice slight traces of disturbances in the otherwise wild forest, dashing any further thoughts of embarrassment and relationships. Scuffs of mud, a broken branch and even an old fire pit. She followed the trail, her hand resting on her knife hilt, eyes always searching … and then she found it. The place in her dream that led her to the whereabouts of Lady Artemis, potentially giving them a chance to stop the war before it even started.

And it was empty. She waited for the others to catch up and while Silena held the reins of their horses, the three inspected the campsite. The signs of a recent occupancy were obvious, and it appeared they had been camped there for a long time. Annabeth tried not to start the 'what if's' in her mind, instead thinking ahead to what they could do next.

"They can't have left too long ago," Piper remarked, crouched by the coals of a fire. "A few hours at most. The tracks lead off in that direction."

"A direct route to the Hunter's village," Silena confirmed, moving in with the horses in tow. "Do you think if we had decided to do the same, we could've intercepted them?"

Percy shook his head. "We couldn't risk colliding with the entire army and being captured," Percy commented, gazing first at the tracks, then in the direction they were leading. "We have to catch up," he told the others, his eyes going to each of them. "We could wait for next light, but …"

"I'll track," Piper offered, moving ahead into the trees.

Annabeth shared a look with Percy before nodding, heading towards Silena for her horse. Piper was a shadow in front of them as she moved swiftly ahead, her footfalls light and silent. Annabeth marvelled at her speed on foot, while the others tried to keep the movements of their mounts as quiet as possible. Darkness fell, but Piper continued on, able to see the tracks with only the moonlight to guide her. It made Annabeth a little envious. She was good, but even she had her limits.

The moon was high in the sky when they caught the first sight of flames. They slowed, slipping from their saddles as quietly as they could, creeping forward to join Piper behind a large tree. Annabeth surveyed the camp, counting the bandits that were drunkenly stumbling along ahead of them, every few steps aiming lewd gestures towards a heavily secured prisoner that was being carted along. Piper indicted there was a dozen in the prisoner escort, with two scouting at the head of the party. Percy gestured his plan and the two women nodded, getting into position behind the moving party as he scurried ahead.

Annabeth was itching for a fight but even with the advantage of skill, stealth was the key. Her and Piper crept to the back of the party, to the stragglers who were supposed to be defending the backs of their comrades but were merely struggling to keep up with the escort. Annabeth pulled the knife from her boot, silencing the one on the left while Piper took the one of the right. They left them lying on the ground, sneaking forward to the next two and executing them in a similar fashion.

Despite their silent footfalls and careful avoidance of the torch bearers, they were discovered, a surprise and rallying cry echoing around the escort. Percy exploded from the shadows, taking the two in front when they turned. Annabeth drew her knife, Piper her sword and they weaved around the bandits, who struggled under the ambush and were soon overrun.

Annabeth faced off against one of the remaining bandits, who screamed as she swung wildly at her. Annabeth backpedalled with each swing, avoiding the arc of the spear, waiting for her opening. Then she stumbled, having to dart to the side as the bandit lunged forward for the kill. The bandit wedged her spear into the soft ground and Annabeth pounced, finishing her quickly.

As the bandit slumped, Annabeth took a step away and her leg gave way, causing her to collapse to her knees. She grunted as she hit the ground, rolling back on her haunches in surprise. She was panting, her hands fluttering oddly. She had assumed the sensation was from the adrenaline, but she was stunned to realise it was fatigue.

"You okay?" Piper asked, helping her to her feet.

"Yeah," Annabeth said distractedly. "Yeah, I'm fine," she repeated.

Piper's gaze dropped, taking note of Annabeth's shaking hands, which she clenched into fists and dropped to her side. The two didn't speak of it further as they joined Percy, who had met up with Silena at the cart. Annabeth could feel Piper watching her as Lady Artemis was cut free, but she tried to ignore it, clenching and unclenching her fists until they felt normal.

Lady Artemis, at first glance, appeared to be a child. Her statue was small, but it was clear the way she held herself that she was no child. Her auburn hair had come loose and framed her pixie-like features, her silver silk-like shirt torn and dirtied in several places, as was her pants and boots. It was clear she did not get captured easily, with several bruises in varying stages of healing that covered her face attesting to that fact.

Lady Artemis golden eyes were wary as she took in her rescuers. "You wear my Hunter's armour, and yet, you are not one of them," she stated.

Annabeth shifted ever so slightly, readying herself in case she needed to defend her and Silena. This action did not go unnoticed by the Huntress. Suspicion flared in her eyes, unsure if she could trust her rescuers or if it was an elaborate ruse.

"Your eyes," she said to Annabeth, her suspicion shifting to contemplation. "Athenian?" Annabeth nodded. "Daughter?" Annabeth nodded again. Lady Artemis relaxed a little. "He's after you. That fanatical heretic who enslaved me here."

"We know," Annabeth confessed. "I'm the one he thinks has the Crystal."

Lady Artemis' eyes widened, but Percy stepped in before she could reply. "My Lady, we were sent by Thalia. We need your help if we are to defeat Octavian and his army and save your people that he marches upon. We had hoped by freeing you, we may prevent the oncoming battle."

"He's a fool if thinks he can breach our walls," she stated vehemently. "You are the son of the pirate," she deduced when she focused on him. Percy shifted uncomfortably. "This fight is inevitable. Has been since the moment he declared himself a false God."

The four of them looked at each other, knowing she was right even if it was hard to hear. Freeing Lady Artemis was an advantage to them but once the marching began, the battle was going to happen. They needed to hope the defensive plans had been set in time.

"You said Thalia sent you," Lady Artemis continued. "Where's Zoë?"

"We aren't entirely sure, but we know she was captured in search for you," he replied. "You haven't seen any other prisoners?"

Lady Artemis' nostrils flared in anger. "He kept me locked away from all but the handful you have slain. Wretched, drunken fools. They were most aggrieved by the fanatic's orders to leave me untouched. They believed they should enjoy the spoils." Her expression soured further. "They compromised with vulgar taunts and gestures. I only wish you had freed me earlier so I could exact my own vengeance upon them."

"Did they say why you were captured?" Piper asked.

"There were planning on bringing me to some ritual," Lady Artemis answered. "I was to be the centre piece. We were about a day behind the army if what I overheard was correct."

"Is there any chance we could get around them?" Silena asked, though she didn't sound hopeful.

"Not if their number are as big as Malcolm described," Piper answered. "And going through them isn't an option."

"Unless …" Annabeth murmured to herself, ignoring the others as they discussed other plans. She glanced towards Lady Artemis, then to the strewn bodies around them. Malcolm came to mind, as did the other prisoners they still needed to rescue.

"You have my help, mercenary," Annabeth heard Lady Artemis answer Percy's question. "But I am afraid I have no means of fighting. They took my bow," she added, almost as angrily as she was when discussing her captors.

"You can have mine," Silena offered. "I'm not a very good shot."

"No," Annabeth stated, causing them all to pause. "At least, not yet. I have an idea."


	22. Chapter 22

**As always, these characters do not belong to me.**

**Readers be advised: Violence, themes and coarse language**

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

"Hunters!" Octavian called out towards the walls of the village. "It is time you accepted the new regime!"

Octavian hadn't changed since the last time Annabeth had seen him. If anything, he appeared to have come into his own with the outpouring of support from his increased number of followers. He had an air of smugness as he stared towards the Hunter's village, standing upon a dais that raised him and only a select few above the army that surrounded him.

Among those that were on the dais was a small, rattish looking man with armour too big for his frame. He appeared anxious, fidgeting constantly, his hands either going to the hilt of his sword or adjusting the crude metal crown fixed to his brow. The Bandit King glanced nervously to his towering bodyguards, then back to Octavian, who all but ignored his presence.

"Cowardice," Lady Artemis fumed under her breath.

"At least we know why the bandits are working with Octavian," Piper muttered dryly.

Percy shot a warning glare in her direction; which Annabeth saw from the corner of her eyes was responded with an eye roll. He was right to be wary, considering they were in earshot of a lot of bandits who would question their loyalty if they heard Piper's derisive tone about their so-called 'King'.

Annabeth tugged at her cloak, making sure that it concealed the Hunter's armour she wore underneath. She blinked, trying not to rub the black war paint she and Piper smeared across their eyes, hoping it would help conceal their identities and blend in. The three of them kept their hoods up, adding to the mystique of the bandits tasked with guarding their most prized prisoner. Since arriving at the army, they had been able to move unhindered towards the dais, though they had yet to see any of the other prisoners.

Annabeth knew her fidgeting was due to her nerves. The original plan they had in place had to be scrapped and they were depending solely on her quickly conceived alterations. It was crude, with a lot of factors that she hadn't included, and they all knew that the plan teetered on a knife's edge of success. In reality, they were basically going in blind, and hoping it all worked out in their favour. Yeah, Annabeth could see several things going wrong; she just hoped the consequences weren't too dire.

The gates to the Hunter's village opened, and a precession of soldiers marched forward. They stretched out in half a dozen lines, covering at least half the front walls. The gates closed as the last of the Hunter's army moved into line, their silence against the usurper deafening. Thalia was no where to be seen, and judging by the smirk Octavian was showing, he truly believed they were about to surrender.

Annabeth frowned at the Hunter's display, wondering what Thalia and Reyna were planning. She wasn't concerned, not when it came to Reyna, who basically knew everything there was to know about Octavian, but theatrics weren't her forte. She looked across, her eyes finding Percy's green ones peeking out from his cowl and hood, hoping he would have some sort of reassurance or idea of what was happening. Instead of the nagging worry that had caused her to look in his direction, her mind recalled their last conversation.

"_I need to tell you something," she told him, drawing him away as Piper, Silena and Lady Artemis was preparing for their deception. She took a deep breath. "I think I'm in love with you," she stated boldly. His eyes widened. "And I know it's considered bad luck to declare something of this scale before heading into battle but I needed you to know that this thing between us is significant to me and if we get out of this, I want to explore it further, with you."_

_Percy didn't answer straight away, and those seconds of silence had Annabeth on the verge of panic, but that swiftly dissolved when he placed his hands on either side of her jaw, tilting her head as he brought his down, kissing her once, then twice, pulling away just enough to gaze into her eyes. His lips quirked, eyes crinkling with the tender smile he gave her before wrapping her in a tight hug. _

"_I love you too," he murmured in his ear._

Those words echoed in Annabeth's mind as she stared into his green eyes and she had the troubling thought that it may be for the last time. She shook her head, banishing the absurd thought as Octavian started to speak.

"Standing before you is the new order," Octavian declared. "We, together as one, will rid the world of false idealisations and selfish leaders." Lady Artemis bristled. "I have been called by a higher power to deliver this message and I am here to liberate you from the bonds you have been kept in!" Octavian's followers cheered loudly, and he absorbed their adoration with raised hands. "And yet," he continued once the cheering had stopped. "There are those who resist our way forward into the light, refusing the call of the higher power and shun our new order. They will not be forgotten, oh no. No, they will be an offering to the higher power and be reborn! Bring the heathens forward!" he shouted over another loud cry from his audience.

From the other side of the dais, a brutish bandit clad head to toe in black and covered in jagged pieces of metal jutting out from his armour, made his way forward. He was carrying a thick chain and attached to the chain came several scruffy and hooded prisoners with four more bandits escorting them on either side. The prisoners were forced to kneel behind Octavian, their hoods roughly removed to reveal friends, and surprisingly, foes.

Luke's face displayed only inhuman rage as he was knelt beside Ethan. Both he and Ethan looked like they had been quite the struggle, with their Elite armour and army gone. On his other side another woman in Hunter's armour that must have been Zoë, followed by Clarisse, Chris, Will and Nico. Annabeth could feel the tension emanating from her three companions as the bandits jeered at the prisoners. Chris was bleeding, Clarisse had several cuts to her face and neck, with Nico and Will coloured similarly with bruises, but they were all alive.

"Ah, here they come to submit to my power!" Octavian gloated, gesturing towards the Hunter's village.

The gates opened once more, Thalia making her forward on horseback. Her armour was gleaming, a shield and spear strapped to her back as she made her way to the front of the army. She had a circlet on her head, and it gleamed when the sunlight reached it through the tree canopies. Percy's eyes widened, Piper gasped and even Annabeth was a little awed by the display, but Thalia's presence had more of an effect on the captured Hunter's. Beside them Lady Artemis gave a tiny sigh and even Zoë straightened a little in her knelt stance, bowing her head just that little bit in acknowledgement of the leader of the Hunters. Octavian's smile lost a little of its sheen.

"These lands are under the protection and ownership of Lady Artemis," Thalia said in a loud and stern voice. "You are not welcome here."

"I am welcome wherever my feet decide to take me," Octavian countered, smiling at her. "I could declare that you, and the people beside you, are trespassing on _my_ lands."

Thalia's eyes narrowed at the statement, a bristle of anger rippling through the Hunter's army. Lady Artemis looked murderous, and Annabeth hoped she had enough restraint not to break the façade.

"You need not worry about such trivial things as territory," Octavian continued. "Soon, it will all become one under my rulership and, and …" Octavian faltered as the gate opened once more to let another rider come forward.

Reyna directed her horse beside Thalia, her eyes fixed on her foe. He appeared to pale under her stare, and just as anger rippled through one side, anxiety went through the other at the presence of the She-Wolf. Sitting proud in her saddle, if Thalia defined leadership, then Reyna defined strength. She wore the cloak and cowl she had been wearing when Annabeth had first met her, though the cowl had been pushed down to her throat so her entire face was visible. She had painted her face and forearms in the tribal colours of her clan, the first clan Octavian had destroyed with his toxic manipulation. She was ready to end her blood vengeance; one way or the other.

Octavian cleared his throat, recovering from his lapse. "All you need to do is bow to me, accept my rule and your lives will be spared."

"Somehow the army of bandits at your side suggests another path," Thalia replied.

"They are only here as witnesses, and to show you proof of what surrender truly looks like."

Reyna leaned over and whispered something in Thalia's ear, keeping her eyes trained on Octavian. His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing when Thalia, to everyone's surprise, chuckled. Her look was smug when she faced Octavian again, but before anything could be said she glanced back to Reyna, chuckling again and shaking her head. The Bandit King looked nervously between the two other leaders, ringing his hands together.

"What, pray tell, is so amusing?" Octavian asked, trying to control his annoyance but failing.

"You, of course," Thalia said with a snort. "Do you really think we are going to hand over the Crystal to you after the one who was destined to wield it already has it in her possession?"

Outrage and unease stirred through the cultists. Octavian silenced them with a raised hand, but he was slowly losing control of his emotions. Annabeth tried not to shift uncomfortably, or check that her face was still covered.

"What is she doing?" Piper hissed.

"What she does best," Percy murmured back. "Stir the pot."

"That is a lie," Octavian said, his voice straining to remain calm. "She is nothing but an imposter, claiming false idealisations. Her and her sacrificial companion!"

"Funny, I could say the same about you," Thalia said. "You are only the true leader if you are in possession of the Crystal. Isn't that what you claimed?"

Luke shifted in his binds, his eyes narrowing even further in his rage, but he was otherwise ignored. He must have been told the Crystal in his possession was a fake, and now both he and Octavian believed she took the real one for herself. His presence could prove problematic, Annabeth thought, realising she would have to steer clear of him, or kill him.

"Lies," Octavian hissed scathingly. "Where is she? Where is the thief?"

Thalia smiled, snaring her prey. "You'll never find her, and you'll never get your hands on the Crystal. It was not meant for you."

"It is mine!" he roared. The cultists shrank back, bowing in reverence to their leader. It was a sickening display of mislead loyalty. Even the bandits appeared taken aback by the reaction. "And I will have it! But it seems in order for you to understand just how powerful I am, you must be shown proof. Bring the first prisoner forward to be sacrificed."

Ethan struggled initially but with his hands bound and mouth gagged, he could do little as he was dragged, pushed and shoved forward. He was forced to kneel beside Octavian, who grabbed his hair and pulled his head back, so he could stare into his eyes.

"I'm merciful," Octavian said to him. "Pledge loyalty to me, and you will live."

Ethan answered with a murderous snarl and a futile attempt to free his hands at his back. Octavian sighed, gesturing to one of his followers to execute him. The follower bowed, grabbing a broad axe from the edge of the dais. He stalked forward, the other prisoners moving restlessly but they were all interrupted when a bandit guarding the prisoners intercepted him, turning to Octavian. He threw back his hood. The Bandit King flinched in surprise, whimpering at his bandit's intrusion.

"My Lord," the bandit started, holding his hands out placatingly.

Recognition shot through Annabeth. "Malcolm," she breathed, causing Percy and Piper to start in surprise.

"My Lord," Malcolm repeated. "If you could but wait one more moment. We should barter these prisoner's lives for submission."

"Barter?" Octavian repeated dangerously. "I do not barter with no one." He turned back to his follower. "It is my word or death! Do as I command!"

Annabeth's heart started to race, and she desperately wanted Malcolm to stop, to pull back into line. They had a plan, a flimsy one but a plan, nonetheless. She begged he looked over, pleaded that he see her and stop. Octavian was unstable, teetering on madness and about to be too unpredictable for even Athena herself to strategize against.

"The Huntress will see reason if we come at this another way," Malcolm suggested. "We can –."

"Enough!" Octavian scathed, lashing out with his impatience and irritability. "My word is law and must be obeyed!"

Annabeth didn't see the knife Octavian was carrying, but she saw the blood arc from Malcolm's chest. He grunted in surprise, his hands going to the front of his chest as he staggered back a step. Octavian strode to the Bandit King and grabbed him by the front of his armour, kicking Ethan back towards the prisoners as he went.

"Keep your bandits in line or I will be forced to find them a new King," Octavian scathed, only loud enough for those closest to hear, but Annabeth found herself unable to focus on what was happening.

Her mind was screaming, and it was only from years of control that she didn't voice her pain and rage aloud. It could not be true; it simply could not have happened. She watched, frozen, as Malcolm's body fell to the dais. His face was turned away from her, which she couldn't decide whether that was a blessing or an even bigger blow. Octavian gazed down at his body with indifference, stepping over him as if he were nothing.

The edges of Annabeth's vision were hazing with a red tinge as her body shook, from either grief or fury or both. She had felt this only once before; when Percy was on the verge of death with her helplessness turning into rage. She had saved him, so why couldn't she have saved Malcolm? Her fury grew with the injustice. She had only just met him, only just started to have a relationship with her brother. They were free of Arachne; why couldn't she have the time they missed?

It wasn't fair. If she wasn't allowed to have a life with her brother, then none of them, none of the idiotic, fanatical followers should live either. Starting with the one that took her brother from her. Her fury was burning white hot, settling deep in her core, deep within the process of her thoughts. She didn't care that she wasn't at full strength. She didn't care that this battle may very well kill her; all that mattered was that she took as many of them to their deaths with her. She would become a messenger of death. She would be a wrath of destruction.

With her purpose resolved, only then did she feel the vice-like grip on her arm. She glanced down, seeing Piper's knuckles white with strain as she tried to keep Annabeth from flying off the handle and ruining their plan with her vengeance. With slow, careful movements, Annabeth placed a calming hand on Piper's, letting her know she was staying put, even as the sight of Malcolm's blood dripping down the dais threatened to break her control.

Piper's grip didn't ease, but Annabeth forced her focus back onto Octavian, who was done with formalities and requested the main trump card. The bandits and followers alike stood aside, creating a path for the leader of the Hunters. If any questioned the lack of bandits in the guard, it wasn't voiced, not when a low chanting began to echo from the cultists. Lady Artemis kept her head aloft, ignoring the grins and sneers from the bandits as she made her way towards the dais.

Thalia, much to her credit, remained impassive, her eyes narrowing to slits. She quieted those Hunters who voiced their outrage, sharing a look with Reyna. Octavian's look of triumph was marred when the reaction fell short of his expectations. He puzzled at their lack of emotion as the three 'bandits' escorted Lady Artemis through the crowd.

Annabeth was shaking, her breaths erratic as they reached the dais stairs. She tried not to look to where her brother lay, or break away and kill Octavian herself. Why couldn't she? Maybe then it will all end. The answer was, of course, the dozen of his most devoted at his side. Six cultists met them at the bottom of the stairs, taking the chain from Percy's hands. Piper and Annabeth shared a look as Percy appeared to consider resisting, but after a subtle glance to the captive, who bowed her head in a subtle acknowledgement, let the chain slip from his fingers.

The three of them remained by the stairs, eyes trained on Lady Artemis as she was brought to Octavian's side. The prisoners stationed at the back of the dais had to be settled as they struggled against the binds. Nico, at the end closest to the stairs happened to glance their way, eyes widening as Percy dipped his cowl, revealing his identity. He nudged Will at his side, who followed his gaze, passing the message onto Chris, then Clarisse, who grinned around her bit, realising the deception.

"I'm surprised at you," Octavian said to Thalia, casually placing the knife he used to kill Malcolm towards Lady Artemis. Annabeth growled angrily causing Piper to grab her wrist and Percy to thread his fingers through hers on the other side. "I'm about to kill your leader and yet you stand there, silent? Do you not see there is only one option for you?"

Thalia glared at Octavian before facing her leader, her eyes softening as she brought her fist to her chest, bowing. "My Lady, forgive me," she said softly.

Lady Artemis nodded, understanding her forgiveness was not about the choice before her, but for Thalia not leading the search for her leader and instead sending others in her stead. Thalia's shoulders dropped a fraction, resolve stealing her statue. It had an effect throughout the army, with Hunters gripping weapons, tensions climbing. Octavian sighed, dramatically raising the knife as a low chant started around him and throughout the followers.

There was one prisoner who had not received the message, had not realised a plan was in place, had not caught the hidden message in the words spoken between her leader and the temporary leader of the Hunters. There was a flash of silver as Zoë somehow broke from her shackles and charged towards Octavian. Ethan, chained to her, was pulled forward as she moved, not appearing to hinder her advance. Two cultists were bolstered aside as her need to protect her leader proved too strong a motivation for any barrier. She reached Octavian, but as he reared back to avoid being struck, he lashed out with his other hand; the hand holding the knife. There was a wet sucking sound and a heavy grunt as the knife was driven into her chest. There was silence on both sides and then the plan completely fell apart.

The Hunters didn't have Annabeth's restraint. They watched as their second-in-command fell to her knees, her hands reaching for the bloodstain quickly spreading across her chest. Her head was bowed and with what sounded like a sigh, she toppled to the dais floor. Lady Artemis' grief acted as the signal as her scream echoed across the plain. She pulled her arms free of the flimsy restraints, reaching, not for the knife she was given to kill Octavian, but instead for her concealed bow. She fired three arrows simultaneously towards Octavian, who pulled the closest person in front of him to meet the arrows instead. Ethan didn't even have time to blink before death claimed him.

Annabeth ripped the bandit cloak from her shoulders, freeing her arms as she drew her knife. She glanced up towards the dais, meeting Octavian's surprised gaze, that soon narrowed to a glare. Annabeth's gaze was just as hard, maybe more so with her revenge ready to be unleashed. She was no one's sacrifice, and she was no one's puppet, not anymore. She slashed at the closest bandit as Octavian barked orders to capture her. At this, a volley of arrows flew from the trees, their marks slumping as the rallying cry from the allies followed that of their leader.

It was pandemonium, bodies pushing and bumping into each other as the frontal assault, led by Thalia and Reyna, charged forward to engage with the army of the followers of Octavian and bandits. Octavian screamed orders, grabbing his spear as Artemis fired arrow after arrow towards the leaders on the dais, each intercepted either by a body of a devoted follower or hastily raised shields. The Bandit King scurried behind his guards and their shield wall, whimpering rather than relaying orders to his people. Fire arrows lit up the sky, herding the surviving bandits and cultists inwards towards the dais and preventing them for circling around the assault team.

Annabeth fought beside Piper, who spun, parried and slashed at the oncoming threats. Annabeth pulled her aside from the oncoming tide of bodies and together they backed up onto the first couple of steps to avoid being trampled. Annabeth dodged a spear that was thrown her way, retaliating by leaping off the stair towards him, knife out and driving into his chest with a snarl, before she pulled it free, spinning and slashing across the back of the closest enemy, backpedalling to stay between them and the dais. The two women held the stairs of the dais, protecting the backs of Lady Artemis and Percy, who had followed the Huntress onto the dais to free the remaining prisoners.

Clarisse cried jovially as her shackles fell from her wrists, barrelling into three cultists with her bare hands before grabbing a heavy mace, bellowing a challenge as she jumped from the platform and smashed her way through as many as she could. Will, who won himself a bow, fired effortlessly into the crowd from his vantage point, Nico darting around and protecting his flank. Percy yelled something to Chris, who leapt from the dais towards Clarisse, and together they disappeared amongst the crowd. Nico and Will, after another shouted conversation between Percy, followed suit, clearing a path as a volley of arrows darkened the sky. Luke, after a hard glare in Annabeth's direction, rolled off the dais and vanished.

There was only one thought Annabeth had as she continued to fight: death and destruction. There was no plan for her to follow, no person she was trying to protect. It was simply finding the next bandit or follower who dared think they could either capture or kill her and make them regret that decision. She charged headlong into the bulk of the army, uncaring that her decision, considering the allies were on the opposite side of the army, was suicide. She would be a force to be feared as her fought in her brother's name, and she didn't care that it would mean she would die alone.

But she wasn't alone. Not when she glanced over and saw Piper fighting three beside her, desperately parrying and darting back to avoid getting struck. Annabeth growled in annoyance and changed course, kicking away her next would-be kill and tackling one of Piper's opponents, knocking the follower aside. She sliced off the hand of the second, driving her knife into the back of his throat after he fell to his knees with a pain-stricken yell. She turned back to the follower she tackled and stabbed her in the heart before she could rise as Piper struck down the third.

"Retreat to the reinforcements at the Hunter's walls," she told Piper, yelling over the noise.

"No!" she yelled back.

Annabeth rounded to her, parrying a strike and punching out a follower without looking at them. "Piper, go!" she ordered.

"No!" she repeated, ducking and slashing out. Piper moved so she was in front of Annabeth's face, forcing her to face her. "I know what you're trying to do, Annabeth. What you think you have to do. So," she panted, backstepping as Annabeth finished off a bandit aiming to decapitate her. "If you're going to do this, I'm doing it with you."

Annabeth took her frustration out on the next follower that crossed their path before she met Piper's stubbornly defiant gaze. She wasn't bluffing. If Annabeth was prepared to sacrifice herself recklessly fighting without abandon, then Piper would stay at her side and go down fighting as well. Was Annabeth truly prepared to lose someone else? The answer was painful, but also straightforward.

Six more bandits swarmed towards them and Annabeth took the brunt of the assault, slashing and ducking under arms and swings, incapacitating them and leaving them for Piper to finish. She wasn't about to let another person she loved die in front of her, not when she had only just found a family worth fighting for. She faced Piper again, letting her know she understood. There was some relief in Piper's eyes as she nodded, bracing herself for the next attack.

Annabeth stood at her shoulder, pulling her second knife free, yelling instructions on what they needed to do to keep them at bay enough for the allies to break through and join them. She whistled loudly and a volley of arrows flew overhead and cleared a path. She glanced at Piper, who nodded, bracing herself for the next fight. She couldn't save Malcolm, couldn't protect him anymore, but she could protect Piper and the others. It was only then she realised that Percy was nowhere to be seen.

**Percy** was buffeted aside as a sword slammed into his shield. He absorbed the blow, waiting for the next strike before smashing the sword away, driving his own deep into the chest of the bandit, before sweeping his sword in an arc towards the next charging follower, a spray of blood following his sword's trail. He glanced up briefly, summing up the situation as quickly as he could before acting.

While the allies had the element of surprise and their plan to bottleneck Octavian's army was somewhat successful, they were losing numbers at a rate they had not encountered. There were small patches of allies separated from the main defensive core and while they were holding their ground, fatigue and overwhelming numbers would eventually succumb them. He and Lady Artemis had been buffeted from the dais almost as soon as the prisoners had been freed, but she was lethal with the bow, disappearing into the army without a scratch. She moved faster than he had seen anyone move, taking down bandit after bandit, follower after follower, somehow also rallying the other archers in the trees to aim for certain hotspots.

Percy felled a screaming follower, lurching his shield up to block a spear thrown at his head. He swivelled ready to face another when it was intercepted. The Huntress sprang forward, rolling to her feet gracefully as she brought up her spear, meeting the assault. She turned, her electric blue eyes surveying Percy with a small grin, hefting up her shield as a volley of arrows took down another four nearby.

"How's your day been so far?" Thalia yelled sarcastically, spearing a bandit in the back.

Percy ducked, slashing wildly to give himself some space before his shield was rattled by another blow. He grunted, rolling with his shield firmly between him and the attacker before bringing his sword across and driving it forward. "Did Silena make it?" he asked.

"Of course she did! Who do you think had the idea for my grand entrance? She always had this ridiculous need to be theatric – wait a sec," she added, rushing forward and killing three in quick succession, turning to face Percy and throwing her spear in one motion, spearing the charging bandit aiming for his back.

"Show off," he muttered.

Thalia grinned as walked back to him and grabbed her weapon. It was only then that she glanced around, noticing he was alone. "Where's Annabeth?"

"We got separated," he panted with a shake of his head.

His heart ached and he tried to keep her absence from distracting him, but it was costing him a lot to do so. He had seen the look in her eyes when Malcolm was killed, seen the gleam of revenge harden and settle deep. It scared him how little she appeared to care for anything else but acting upon her grief. He had been there before, and he knew from experience that his own life meant very little to him in that state. He had desperately wanted to search the battleground for her, but he knew it would be near impossible to reach her. Piper was missing as well and he had to trust that she was with Annabeth, and that she would prevent her from doing something reckless.

"We need to get back into some formation," Thalia was saying, half as a distraction, half as a plan. "If we keep getting picked off into smaller groups, we will be overwh –."

Thalia's sentence was cut off by a challenging bellow. The two true-borns turned, balking slightly as a brutish bandit trudged forward, flanked on either side by jeering bandits. They looked like children compared to the bulk giganticness of their challenger. His muscles were thicker than Thalia's frame and their weight appeared to hunker his shoulders. In his left hand he dragged a club that looked as though it was once a small tree, chopped haphazardly into a crude club shape. Scars marred the entirety of his body and with only a small chest plate covering the centre of his upper abdomen, there was a lot of skin to beheld.

He yelled again, pointing the club at Percy and Thalia, a toothless grin appearing on his face. Percy took a deep breath, testing both the grip on his shield and his sword. He planted his feet, steadying his resolve. They could do this. He had fought successfully with Thalia on a number of occasions and one brute compared to an entire army was doable.

Thalia shared a look with Percy, before hefting up her spear and shield. "Well, I hope your armour will hold because this is going to be fucking nuts."

Together, they charged forward, meeting the challenge of the brute, who did the same. Percy took the first blow to his shield while Thalia darted around, looking for an opening. The brute turned quickly, surprising them both and forcing Thalia to dive aside and Percy to drive in on the offensive. He was about to stab the brute in the abdomen, but his sword arm was intercepted by a bandit who saw it coming. Percy had to backpedal, finish the rogue bandit and then dodge the barrelling swing of the club. Thalia, from what Percy could see, was having a similar problem, having to fend off other bandits while trying to stay out of range of the club.

The two fighters adjusted to the assault, and it was clear who the superior fighters were. Percy and Thalia moved in sync, able to sense the other and know what they were about to do without having to voice it aloud. Despite their duel skill, the champion brute was bound to get lucky; and he did. Percy, knowing that they couldn't keep battling on two fronts, took on the brute head on, ducking under a swing, darting to the side as the club was brought up. He leapt forward and he struck, his sword burying deep into the brute's hip. He screamed in pain, lashing out wildly and while he missed Percy, Thalia, who had darted in for the killing blow, copped the brunt.

The brute grabbed Thalia by the throat with his free hand, lifting her from her feet. Thalia dropped her spear, the wind choked from her as she was lifted up to the snarling face of the brute. She tried feebly to beat herself free with her shield but to no avail. Percy desperately tried to get the brute to release her, seeing her eyes starting to roll into the back of her head, but the brute, now only having to focus on one opponent, dodged every strike. Thalia's hand on the brute's started to slip and Percy watched as she pulled what appeared to be a needle from inside her bracer, stabbing it into the brute's hand.

The brute yelled, and Percy charged in while he was distracted, slicing deftly at his exposed hamstrings, crippling him. With that, Thalia fell from his grip, sucking in a scratchy breath as she tried to get clear of the rampaging brute. She picked up her spear and drove it through the brute's gut, wedging it in and then driving it up under his ribs. He grunted, his eyes zeroing in on Thalia as a bullock might glare at an annoying insect.

Percy tried to finish him, but at the moment he ran forward the brute swung out and backhanded him, flinging him through the air with surprising speed. Before he had a second to catch his breath, his upper back smashed against the trunk of a hearty tree, and his body whiplashed backwards around the trunk. His armour crumpled and creaked with the impact, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he collapsed at its base, darkness taking over as he lost consciousness.

**Annabeth** had been in plenty of battles before, but the sheer scale of the Hunters and Cultists battle had them all beat. She would incapacitate three, only to turn and another three charging forward to take their place. Faces were blurs, her only focus on where she could drive her knife, where she could cut at the right angle to take down her opponent as quickly as possible without the chance they could rise and attack her from behind. Allies darted in and out of her line of sight, Hunters with their swift footedness and grace, mercenaries with their distinct armour compared to the haphazard collection on the bandits. Reyna's contacts, or at least some of them, had come through.

While groups of allies came and went, there was one who was a constant at Annabeth's side. Piper was relentless, keeping pace with Annabeth as they took down group after group. She had been struck a couple of times, but the injuries were superficial, with Annabeth stepping before they became mortal. As such, Piper was bleeding from her nose and on her arm, her armour dinted in places, but she didn't hesitate when Annabeth ploughed forward, taking on the next bandit who attempted to subdue them.

The longer their fight continued, Annabeth could see that the sheer number of enemies was starting to take its toll. She gritted her teeth, sliding under a blade, rising in the next fluid motion and slicing the cultist's exposed back. Parrying the next attack meant for her neck, she backstepped, darting to the side as another follower drove a spear in her direction, and then having to duck and sidestep yet another follower. She backed up, the three advancing on her, thinking they had the numbers to take her down. Annabeth almost smiled at their naivety and as she twirled the second knife in her left hand. She feinted one way, before beheading one, and leaving the other two without appendages and several stab wounds to vital organs, executing perfect fighter techniques in the process.

Annabeth stowed away her second knife, eyes always searching for the next threat. Piper was a few metres away, fighting deftly against a larger bandit. From the corner of her eye, Annabeth saw movement, turning towards it and half raising her knife in preparation, only to find herself staring down an arrow shaft. In the second she took to register the arrow, it was released and embedding deep into her left shoulder. Her body arced with the blow and she couldn't help her scream. Piper, having slashed the throat of her opponent, turned at the noise, eyes wide in fear as Annabeth staggered. Finding the archer, Piper tossed her sword in his direction, the blade slicing through bow, skin, muscle and bone before he could aim an arrow at her.

Pain laced through Annabeth's body, her shoulder throbbing as Piper grabbed her, almost dragging her from the fight and to safety. She chose a large tree on a small hill, pulling Annabeth down behind the tree's hearty roots, hidden from the sight of the bandits and cultists. Annabeth was wheezing heavily through her teeth, trying to prevent any further screams. Her eyes welled with tears, but she blinked them away furiously as Piper inspected the wound.

"The arrow's gone straight through," Piper informed her. "The arrow tip has jagged edges, like teeth."

"That's because it's designed for long-range hunting," Annabeth replied, having seen it before it hit her. She growled angrily. "If he wasn't dead already, I would have returned the favour by stabbing him through his eyes." She hit the back of her head lightly against the tree root in frustration. "He must've have taken it from one of the Hunters," she said bleakly.

Getting angry wasn't going to help anyone, Annabeth knew that, so she tried to steady her breaths and ignore the throbbing pain. Having no supplies with them, Annabeth was going to have to just bear it. She peaked over the roots towards the battle, assuring herself they weren't about to be attacked.

Turning her attention towards the arrow, Annabeth could see it pierced the armour, which was understandable given the type of arrow and the short firing distance. With the jagged arrow tip, it was designed to stay embedded in the animal, meaning to remove the shaft, it would have to be pushed through; though that would be severely hindered by the armour. Annabeth deduced it was going to be too hard and time consuming to remove it completely. She relayed this to Piper, who, after a grimace and a steely nod, broke the arrow shaft close to the skin. Annabeth grunted at the aggravated pain.

"We should get you to the healers," Piper insisted, as Annabeth placed a hand to her shoulder, pressing her armour in a bit tighter to hopefully slow down the bleeding.

"There's no time," Annabeth stated.

Her breaths were heavy, and the small reprieve they had taken for Annabeth's injury only pronounced her quickly spreading fatigue. While she was moving, she could keep her body from thinking about its exhaustion, from telling her to stop and take a break before she keeled over. She ignored that message, she had to. She had to keep fighting, she could keep fighting. Only when she was unable to stand, to lift her knife, then, maybe then, she would stop.

Piper looked like she wanted to argue but said instead. "What's your plan?"

Annabeth gave her a tiny grateful smile before she glanced back over the tree roots. Fighters were everywhere. The clash of steel, screams and shouts filled the air, mixing with the smell of sweat, blood and dirt. Allied bodies were few and far between with the largest procession of bodies crowded around the dais, where Octavian still towered over them all, spearing any that got too close. Lady Artemis was a light in the middle of the darkness, but that light was spluttering under the sheer numbers Octavian kept throwing in the way. Hunters rallied to their leader's side, but it wouldn't be enough.

"We need to create a path for Artemis to get to Octavian. If we stop him, his followers won't know what to do."

Annabeth rose to a crouch, ignoring the flare of pain in her shoulder from the movement. Adrenaline would take care of that soon enough. Annabeth traced the skirmishes with a strategic mind, drafting a path for the two fighters to take. Piper also rose to her feet.

"I need a sword. I threw mine at the archer and I doubt you want to take a detour to get it back."

"Take the knife at my back," Annabeth replied. "My left arm is pretty much useless now."

Piper grabbed the knife that was shown to her. Annabeth watched as she inspected the blade, her eyes lighting in awe despite the coating of blood on the blade. "Wow," she breathed. "The craftmanship is beautiful."

"If we survive this, it's yours," Annabeth promised, giving her stunned look a grin. Drawing her own knife, she gave Piper one last glance before charging back into the fray.

The fight had a different air to it when Annabeth and Piper returned to the bloody fray. The bandits could sense the shift of power going their way, and they fought with the hint of victory in their sights. Annabeth had a very different idea for their fate and as she parried one sword, ducking under a second, punching a third bandit with the butt of her knife before slashing across their exposed neck, there was no sign of hindrance in her attack. Piper fought deftly at her side, but even she was no match for Annabeth's level of lethal determination.

The Hunters and their allies fighting near Annabeth and Piper rallied to their side as the bandit and cultist bodies were left sprawled or screaming in their wake, creating the path Annabeth envisioned. She lost herself in the fight, in the single-minded goal of reaching the dais, so much so that she couldn't feel the arrow in her shoulder, not even when she brought her arm up to block a secondary strike towards her head with her bracer. She kicked out, dove aside, spun and darted around her enemies, creating openings for either her blade, or the blades of others to strike them down. She raised her gaze at a shout from Piper; the dais was within reach.

Annabeth yelled a charging cry to the allies that flanked her, gesturing towards the dais with her knife. The allies returned her cry as the bandits and cultists flocked to fortify their position and protect their leaders. Blood rained across the fighters and splattered on the ground as the allies fought their way through, Annabeth falling slightly behind after an ally bumped the arrow in her shoulder as they ran past. She grimaced, darting aside and driving her knife into the neck of a bandit that approached her, arcing back and parrying several attempts from a spearman who then received several arrows to the chest for his trouble.

Her shoulder was on fire, disrupting her carefully laid thoughts of distraction, but she had to keep moving. Piper was missing, or at least not in Annabeth's line of vision as she ducked under the swing of a broad axe, sidestepping the next attack before leaping up onto the brute's back, driving her knife down once, then twice into the crook of his shoulder. She rolled away from the falling brute, thrusting her knife up and into the stomach of a cultist who tried to help the brute, grunting at the impact the roll had on her shoulder. She staggered to her feet, fatigue now starting to weigh heavily on her. She pushed it aside, she had to. She had to keep fighting, had to end it if she could.

Picking her next target, she ran forward, only to be hindered by another arrow, this time in her right quad. She stumbled but managed to stay on her feet, the arrow piercing the side of her leg. She faced the archer, whose expression turned fearful as she stalked her way towards them, pulling the arrow out of her leg as she did. They knocked another arrow shakily, letting it fly before truly aiming at Annabeth. It struck, but just above her hip, where her armour took the brunt, but not all, the blow. The second hit to the right leg caused it to give way and she fell, grimacing in pain. The archer tried her luck for a third time, but a well-aimed arrow to her forehead ended that idea.

The arrow at her hip took her several attempts to dislodge and an equal amount of pain. Her left hand was shaky and covered in a mix of her blood and others as she brought it to the entry point, her blood trickling over her fingers and armour as the shaft came free. She had to get to her feet, she couldn't be stuck, not when she was so close.

If she raised her head, the dais was right there, twenty or so metres away. Victory was within her grasp if she could only get up. She tried to get her feet under her, but her right slipped and she staggered, almost losing the grip on her knife. Her vision was blurring a little, the blood loss starting to become a factor. She thought she heard her name, but she couldn't be sure what was real and what was due to the blood loss.

Annabeth forced her left hand to press tighter on her hip, causing more pain and bleeding from her shoulder. She was taking in deep, but restrained breaths, panting in-between. She raised her head again, only to watch the approach of her death race towards her in the means of bandits and cultists. She gripped her knife, raising it in front of her, bracing her weight on her left leg, ready for one last fight.

**Percy** wasn't sure how long he had been unconsciousness, but he was shaken awake by Thalia, whose concerned gaze was the first thing he saw.

"You can't die just yet, Pirate Prince," Thalia remarked. "Not when we have a fight still to win."

Taking Thalia's offering hand, Percy rose groggily to his feet, searching for his sword, only to find it being offered from Thalia's other hand. Taking his familiar weapon, he shook his head, trying to clear the ringing in his ears from the blow he copped. Spitting out the remaining blood that coated his mouth, he wiped at the blood also covering his lips and cheeks, and the rest that coated one side of his head, trickling down his ear. Remembering the cause, he looked to where he last saw the brute, only to find a crumpled corpse in his place.

"Told you it would be fucking nuts," she commented, seeing where Percy gaze had gone.

Percy couldn't help the grin he shared with Thalia, before taking stock of the battle in front of them. It was clear they were losing, the enemy numbers just too overwhelming for the allies to contain. Arrows from the trees were sporadic and it appeared some of the bandits had managed to secure bows, and firing, though ill-aimed, back towards the clusters of resistance. His thoughts went fleetingly towards Annabeth, and whether she was still alive and fighting.

"Something's happening on the other side of the dais," Thalia noted. "Look, they're pulling reinforcements to that side."

Thalia was right. The Bandit King, who had been relatively silent beside Octavian's shouted orders, was gesturing to his people to swarm the other side. Someone must have rallied the allies and was attempting to charge the dais, ending the battle with the death of the leaders. It was a sound tactic if they could reach the dais before being overwhelmed, but with the number of bandits heading that way, he wasn't sure if the allies would survive. It was time for their extra assistance.

"Good, let's chop in at them from behind," Percy said. He whistled a four noted tune and Blackjack came flying in.

Percy leapt on, raising his sword into the air with a bellowing cry, drawing attention to his position. He even made Blackjack rear for the full effect, which was then followed by the collective sound of galloping hooves and wooden wheels. Thalia stepped aside and then joined Silena's charging chariot as the small cavalry party charged in, crushing bandits and cultists under hoof and wheel. Clarisse yelled defiantly as she cut into the unsuspecting bandits, Chris deftly steering the chariot to avoid being upended with her enthusiastic swinging. Nico steered the third chariot with more grace, Will firing left and right and finding his mark as only he could.

Blackjack didn't need much instruction from his rider, knowing exactly where to run and move, bucking and kicking when a bandit tried to grab at Percy from behind. Confidence grew within the allies and a renewed energy flowed through the battlefield as the chariots continued to charge and cleave through the overwhelming numbers. With the extra height, Percy searched the battlefield, scanning for the flash of blonde hair but he found someone else instead.

He urged Blackjack forward, trampling and slashing at more bandits who couldn't get out of the way fast enough, whistling out to signal his arrival. Reyna twirled her spear, slashing at several in front of her as Percy chopped at those at her flank, despatching them before they realised the threat. Percy grabbed at her outstretched arm and hoisted her up onto Blackjack behind them, continuing to chop at the swarming bodies. But the bandits had clued on to fighting a mounted rider, and soon Blackjack was forced back by a wall of cultist and bandits.

"I need to get to the dais!" Reyna shouted in Percy's ear, gesturing with her spear to Octavian forty or so metres from them.

Percy kicked away a charging cultist, glancing towards the dais, where Octavian met their collective gaze. He was livid, madness encroaching on his usually controlled façade. He snarled at them for the briefest of seconds, but Percy could see the fear as well, the fear of the She-Wolf nipping at his heels. He couldn't outrun her, not this time and despite the bodies he was throwing towards her, she had still persevered. It was either Lady Artemis or Reyna who could finish this, Percy knew that and without any sight of the Huntress, he had to give Reyna every chance to do so.

He slipped down from Blackjack, kicking away and stabbing at two who tried to get to him. He glanced up at Reyna, giving her frown a soft smile, raising his sword and picking up a discarded shield.

"Then go," he told her.

He deliberately walked in between her and the bandit wall, dropping to a fighting stance. The bandits stared first at Reyna on Blackjack and then to Percy, bloodied but steady on his feet, waiting for their approach. Collectively, they charged towards him, leaving Reyna to fight through on the small section of cultists on the other side. He took a breath, before he too, closed the distance between him and the bandits, his sword up and arcing, ready to spill blood.

**Annabeth** watched the bandits race towards her, preparing to face them for one final stand when they were cut down by a volley of arrows. She looked around, seeing Will and Nico on a chariot race past her and circling the remaining fighters like a hawk. Chris and Clarisse on another followed in behind, yelling encouragement to the allies they passed. She got to her feet, taking a few heavy steps forward, forcing deep breaths into her lungs as a few bandit stragglers stumbled in her direction, pulling out arrows and raising weapons. Her agility was sluggish, her attack slow but she managed to out manoeuvre her attackers, singling them out and despatching them one by one.

With a soft exhausted cry, Annabeth slashed once, twice across the chest of the last bandit, spinning and twirling the knife in her hand so the blade ran along her arm. Stepping back, she drove the knife backwards into the bandit's chest to finish him, pulling it out, spinning and ducking to drive it into the bandit trying to rise to kill her. She watched the bandit fall back to the bloodied ground, happening to glance up towards the dais as she sucked in more deep breaths, just in time to see Reyna launch herself onto the platform from the opposite end, her eyes only on the cultist that took everything from her.

The battle seemed to pause as the She-Wolf raised her spear and stalked towards Octavian, knocking aside the Bandit King as if he were nothing more than an inconvenience. The fanatic advisors were next, trying in vain to protect their leader from her wrath. They were no match; nothing was stopping her when she was so close. With a snarl and what Annabeth supposed was intended as an intimidating yell, Octavian grabbed his spear and met Reyna head on, and while it was clear he had some skill with the spear, Reyna's passion and desire for revenge was just too strong.

An overstretched lunge spelled the end of Octavian as Reyna sidestepped clear of the strike, bringing her spear around and striking at his exposed arm. His spear, as well as his arm from elbow down, fell to the platform, but she was not finished. In the same motion, she spun, twirling her spear around her body before she drove the tip right through his chest, breaking muscle and bone as it pierced his heart and exited through his back with a bloody finality. Her victory came in seconds, so quickly that Octavian didn't even have time to feel the loss of his limb. He stared wide-eyed at the spear jutting into his chest, blood pouring from his mouth as he slumped over the spear shaft, never to speak his poison again. An anguish cry escaped Reyna's lips, voicing the pain and rage she had bottled up for years in anticipation of that moment.

A collective cry echoed around the battlefield, raising the hairs on Annabeth's arms. She turned, lifting her knife, ready to protect herself, only to lower it again. The remaining cultists had fallen to their knees, weeping for their fallen leader. Watching the display, Annabeth felt a tinge of pity for the brain-washed that quickly turned to horrified disgust when one by one they pulled a small knife from their belts, cutting their throats or stabbing their chest, sacrificing their lives for their leader.

Annabeth watched as the wailing turned to gurgles, their voices crying out to their dead leader as they joined him in whatever life came next. It was the action of the devoted that wearied Annabeth the most, thinking it to be such a waste of life. She stowed away her knife, breathing a struggle as she looked towards the dais, before taking limping, ginger steps in that direction. If the battle was continuing, then she was somehow spared from its wrath. Her fatigue was catching up with her, her injuries, even the ones she hadn't realised had occurred, were starting to make themselves known, but she pushed them aside.

Jumping onto the dais, Annabeth had roll to make it up with her injured leg. Suppressing her grunt of pain, she gripped her shoulder as she sidestepped and stepped over bodies, stumbling ever few steps when her injured leg gave way. She passed Reyna, who had fallen to her knees at the completion of her blood vengeance, her head bowed in reverence or relief or some other emotion Annabeth was too tired to examine at length. Reaching her destination, tears blurred her vision as she got to her knees with an ungraceful shakiness.

Annabeth let her tears fall, staring at the lifeless body of her brother, unsure what she should do. She reached out with a tentative hand, her fingers shaking as they touched his shoulder. It shouldn't have been him, she thought silently. Life had been so unfair to them both, robbing them of their childhood, of the chance to get to know each other. She had no anger left to give, nothing but sadness and the thoughts of what could've been.

Gripping his shoulder, she placed all her strength into rolling him over. It took a few seconds to get a good grip with her hand, a grunted sob escaping her lips from the effort. She wanted to see his face, at least once before he was taken away. She had hoped it would be peaceful, so far from what they had experienced. A wet and rasping breath tore through the silence, startling Annabeth onto her haunches.

Malcolm twitched, his fingers spasming with the movement as he took another haggard breath. Shocked, but only for a second, Annabeth leant back over him, touching her cheek, calling his name gently as she glanced down his body. The wound she thought fatal, starting from his left collarbone and working its way down to the top of his right hip, wasn't as deep as she had imagined, and the fact that he had fallen face down helped to congeal the blood. It had re-opened with the movement and Annabeth scrambled to try and stop any further blood loss, her eyes on the slow rise and fall of his chest.

"Help," she said, before repeating it louder. Her eyes were wild as she searched for the medics, her voice even more so when no one responded. She placed her hands over his wound, trying to keep the pressure there to prevent more blood loss. She was about to shout again when two hunters met her on the platform. Instead of going to her brother, they started to place hands on her shoulders and face.

"No, not me! Him! Help him!" she yelled, pushing away their helping hands.

There was a growling challenge that split Annabeth's attention from Malcolm and luckily that it did. She turned towards the noise, raising her knife instinctively. The axe collided with her knife, the jolt causing her to lose her grip, her knife toppling off the side of the dais. Without her knife, she raised her hands as the next axe swing was aimed at splitting her skull. She grabbed the shaft of the axe, her left arm buckling under the force. The bandit tried to drive the axe down, bearing all her weight into the blade as Annabeth, teeth gritted, struggled. She grunted in effort, getting her feet under her to then be able to shift the bandit's weight sideways.

The axe dropped to the dais and Annabeth wasted no time in forcing the bandit back with a kick from her right leg, which proved not as powerful thanks to her injury. The bandit collided with another that had leapt up onto the stage to protect their king but three more were advancing. Annabeth dodged one, two, slashes of a sword before sidestepping and grabbing the wrist of the bandit, twisting and disarming him before turning the sword on the owner, stabbing his stomach before opening him up to his sternum. She spun the sword in her hands, pushing away a spear attack as she twirled and twisted the sword in an arc, snapping the spear in two and driving her shoulder into the bandit to give herself some space.

"Get him out of here, now!" she shouted to the hunters, facing them for the briefest of seconds to make sure they were still alive and tending to Malcolm.

That second almost cost her. She turned back to the bandits, only to cop a blow to her jaw from a staff strike. Annabeth spat out blood and grunted as she stumbled and fell on her bad leg. She brought the sword up but only managed to partly deflect the blow. She almost screamed as the staff struck her bad shoulder, the sword clattering to the ground. Blinded by tears and desperate to keep them at bay, Annabeth dived away as the blow intended for her head smashed into the dais.

She reached out for a weapon, her fingers closing in on Octavian's spear and thrusting it up as the bandit swarmed for her, instantly impaling herself on the spear. Annabeth grabbed her staff as she dropped it, meeting the strike of the next bandit as she spluttered and choked in pain. She swung wildly, her boots slipping on blood but managed to strike the bandit on the jaw, shattering it as she fell. She rolled away, arcing the staff up as she did to finish the bandit. She glanced up, then pulled Octavian's spear free, the bandit gurgling and collapsing at being released, throwing it deftly into the back of the bandit who was approaching the hunters, but there was another still advancing, going for the second hunter still with Malcolm.

Out of weapons, Annabeth recklessly raced forward, tackling the final bandit off the dais. She struggled to get up, exhaustion, pain and blood loss weighing on her heavily. She stumbled, her boots unable to find grip, her entire body screaming at her, but she couldn't stop, not when Malcolm needed her. She picked up a fallen sword, slashing at the bandit who was trying to get to her. He fell, but so did Annabeth, her balance failing. She lost the sword, but that didn't matter, not when she lunged across a dead body and grabbed another. She lurched to her feet, her vision starting to blur, her muscles weak. She tried to blot that out, tried to ignore it as she yelled out a challenge for the bandits. Come to me, she was saying, come and face me and leave everyone else.

Come they did. But Annabeth persevered. She slashed at one, spun and drove an axe down the chest of another, shoving one away so she could stab him. With each kill she cried, grunted, yelled, trying to muster the energy for just one more kill, one more incapacitation. She received several more slashes, more cuts to her body but they were all blending in together, causing a numbing effect as exhaustion set in. She pushed away from one bandit, happening to set her eyes upon the dais at the same moment several things happened.

The Bandit King, recovered from his knock, rose to his feet, calling for a sword. He stalked towards Reyna, who had not moved from her kneeling position. With her back exposed, the Bandit King raised the sword over his head, ready to drive it down, but it never would. Lady Artemis, her armour shining, and her hair askew, gracefully landed on the platform her bow drawn and an arrow ready. The sword slipped from his grip as the Bandit King stared down at the four arrows that pierced his chest, glancing up in time to see Lady Artemis stride forward and slash his throat, thus ending his reign. The bandits, with no leader, scattered in earnest, as victory cheers masked their hurried departure.

Annabeth had nothing left. Probably hadn't for a while. Unable to move, unable to speak, she fell to her knees, not even able to feel the dull flicker of pain in her leg anymore. Her head bowed, and she could hear this strange haggard wheezing in her ears, realising feebly that it was her own breathing. Her blinking was lethargic as bloodied drool ran from her numb lips, onto her legs and the already soiled ground under her. Dolefully she tried to wipe it with a shaking hand, but it was futile.

It was in that moment that Annabeth realised she was dying, and that she was okay with it. She was the reason they were attacked. She was the reason Octavian had joined forces with bandits, she was the reason so many of their people had to fight and die. It was her fault, so it was only fair she joined their brethren in death. She had saved the Hunters, had given Malcolm a chance at living, and that was what mattered.

There was one thought that ran through her mind at that moment. More of a regret, and maybe that made her silly and girlish, and if anyone found out, they could proclaim her to be shallow, but she only wished to see Percy one last time. To see his smile, to see his eyes light up with his laugh, to see him sleep peacefully at her side. She wished she could reach out and grasp his hand and feel its comforting warmth as she drifted off.

Annabeth was ready. She was ready to move on to whatever came next. She was about to close her eyes for the final time when she dully felt an indentation in the ground in front of her. Soft hands rested under her chin, forcing her head up. Percy? It took a few seconds but then Piper's face came into view. Annabeth blinked dolefully at her friend, who was shouting something over her shoulder that Annabeth couldn't hear with the strange fuzz in her ears. It was hard to concentrate, hard for her brain to communicate with her as to what she was seeing, but she tried, if only to see her friend one last time.

Piper's eyes were filled with tears, her face constricted in a desperate worry as she surveyed Annabeth's state and realising it was almost beyond healing capabilities. She tried to smile, to show Annabeth something encouraging but it was marred by her tears.

"Annabeth," she said quietly, choking up a little. "Please don't give up now."

Annabeth didn't want her to be upset, didn't want her to be in pain. If this was how it had to be, then this was what had to happen. She wanted to tell Piper that, wanted to tell her it was okay, but she only managed to splutter up more blood, her chest constricting with her struggling breaths. Piper's eyes glistened as she softly pulled Annabeth into a hug, careful not to injure her further. Annabeth's forehead fell against Piper's shoulder as she was cradled.

It had to be this way, didn't it? Her mind went to someone else. A black haired, green eyed man. He was smiling at her, offering her his hand. Maybe … maybe, she could hold on for just a little bit longer, for Piper, for Percy.

With her last remaining energy, Annabeth lifted her bloodied right arm to hug Piper back.

**Percy** surveyed the bandits he had dispatched so Reyna could reach the dais, his breathing heavy as more approached. He prepared himself for the assault when a cry echoed from above him. He turned in time to see Reyna pierce Octavian through the chest with her father's spear, her blood vengeance fulfilled. His heart went out to his mercenary companion, seeing her finally free of the terrible burden she had spent years trying to enact.

A rampaging bandit snagged his attention from Reyna, having to parry the blow aimed for his own chest. He turned in one fluid motion, gutting another that tried to strike at his exposed back. He took a back step, darting to the side and slashing once, twice and then a third for good measure at the bandit. Sensing movement to his left, Percy spun, readying his sword to take the blow but the cultist had no interest in him. She had fallen to her knees with a pain-stricken cry, her hands raised towards the dais where Octavian had been slain, tears running down her face.

Percy didn't know how to comfort her, especially considering he was still her enemy. But her wailing was so terrible, he had to somehow help her. He lowered his sword, taking a step towards her when she grabbed a knife and brought it to her neck. Percy cried out as she sliced her own neck, her blood spilling down the front of her chest, her hands still outstretched imploringly to her dead leader. Gazing around, he watched in revulsion as several other cultists nearby followed suit, taking their own lives, hands raised and heads bowed in reverence and prayer.

Percy took several backsteps in disbelief, but he had no time to dwell on the horror he had witnessed. The bandits had no interest in the death of the lead cultist, and having no need to share the spoils, they could see victory in sight. Percy dived aside, thrusting upward as he rose to his feet, gutting one bandit before turning and slashing the chest of the other. He parried a sword, ducked under an axe, stabbed the chest of another, parried the sword again, darted to the side and beheaded the axeman and drove his sword through the back of the swordswoman. Adrenaline surged through his veins, as he found himself surrounded. One ally against a dozen or so bandits, all ready to take his head off.

Picking up another shield, Percy held them at bay, picking one off at a time. He copped several slashes, but most were on his armour. Hunters and mercenaries darted in and out of his vision as he swerved and dodged attacks, trying not to stumble or trip over the bodies of the dead that lay strewn across the bloodied ground. There was a cry, a yell of defiance, fatigue and surprisingly, a challenge, that broke Percy's concentration for a split second. He raised his shield, protecting his face as another challenging cry echoed across the field. Whoever it was, they were still fighting, still demanding blood. Percy had the strangest urge to find the fighter…

But he couldn't, not when he was desperately trying not to get too outnumbered. His armour was taking a serious belting and the shield he took was splintering in places and would soon be useless, but still he attacked, still he defended, withstanding the assault. The bandits were falling back, trying to converge on him together but unable to decisively come together. He struck down another, turning to meet the next opponent … and was met by a charging Luke, who pierced Percy's side with a broken spear shaft.

Percy's yelled in pain and anger, meeting Luke's gaze with a snarl. He wasn't sure what had happened to Luke after the ambush at the Elite camp, but none of it appeared to be good. He had no armour, but he never had any need of it being as skilled as he was with the sword. If he was on a mission, he was near unstoppable and it appeared Luke had been. He was covered head to toe in blood, his eyes stark against the crimson and crazed as they stared into Percy's. His hand pressed the spear shaft in deeper, to emphasis his power and control.

"I should've left you chained on that dais," Percy growled, pushing away and swinging wildly, creating a surging pain in his side. He fell to his hands and knees, his sword tumbling away.

"Where's my Crystal?" Luke demanded, sounding utterly deranged.

Percy choked out an incredulous laugh, pushing himself back onto his haunches with shaking arms. He spat out a mixture of blood and saliva before he looked at Luke, who towered over him.

"So, this is what it comes to," Percy muttered to himself.

"I know that plate Annabeth gave me was a fake," Luke repeated again in a hard voice. "You will tell me where my Crystal is, and I'll make your death as painless as possible."

"She never took it from that Cave," Percy replied. He grinned at the surprise on Luke's face. "Even back then, she realised no one, but especially you, shouldn't have control of that artefact." Percy continued to state at Luke. "You've lost everything to your greed, Luke. Can't you see that?"

"I haven't lost anything," he seethed. "But soon, you will. I will show –."

Luke spluttered, then choked and coughed out blood. He looked confused as he fell to his knees opposite Percy, bringing a hand to his chest. His eyes met Percy's and just for a moment, a fraction of a second, Percy could see the old Luke, vulnerable but honest, staring back at him before his eyes glassed over and he fell sideways, the axe that ended his life stuck in his spine. Percy grieved for the Luke he used to know, the one that helped him when he was a child, that was his friend, but he had more pressing problems.

His hands went to the shaft sticking out of his body, testing its depth. He couldn't remove it, not without risking further damage, but he couldn't move. Even as he shifted, pain laced up his side, almost causing him to black out. He gritted his teeth, ready to try when Thalia appeared out of nowhere. She cradled one of her arms against her chest, her eyes full of concern as he smiled tiredly at her.

"What took you so long?" he asked, spitting out the blood pooling in his mouth.

"Oh, you know, just had to get past some bandits that wanted to take my head off," she answered lightly, placing a feather touch on the shaft but pulling back the moment he winced.

"Always so dramatic," he commented. "There was probably only one."

"Seven actually," she corrected. "Hang on," she told him, her voice turning serious as she placed a bloodied hand to his cheek. He nodded and with her good arm, she whistled.

Percy's head bowed, but Thalia rested her forehead against his, murmuring words of encouragement as the familiar sound of horses came towards them. Silena was out of the chariot before it had time to stop, her arm circling under Percy's as she and Thalia hoisted him to his feet. He grunted at the pain, his vision darkening for the briefest of seconds.

"Fuck, you're heavy," Thalia grunted. "You should consider losing weight before I have to carry you anywhere again."

"It's, not nice," Percy panted, as the two of them half dragged, half carried him to the chariot. "Calling a, dead man, fat."

There was a cheer that erupted around the battlefield. Victory, then? Well, he wasn't sure how they pulled it off, but they must have won. He sighed in fatigue.

"You're not dead yet, Princeling," said Thalia, crouching down beside him as Silena hastened towards the front gate. "And you can't die on me. Not when you owe me coin."

"Since, when?"

"I can't remember when, but you definitely owe me."

Percy chuckled, it quickly turning to a grimace and groan as they sped through the crowd. Thalia looked up, yelling at Hunters to clear a path, periodically glancing back down at him. He hadn't seen her so worried and despite their constant bickering, he knew they loved each other deeply. He reached out and took her hand, giving her a soft smile when she glanced at him. She gave him a faint smile in return, more like a twitch of her lips, her fingers squeezing his.

As the minutes trickled by, Percy could feel himself growing sleepy. He knew that meant death was closing in and despite knowing it was pointless, his hands pressed deeper against the wound. He let his eyes drift shut, preferring the last thing he was to see being someone he loved.

He remembered the way her curls turned golden in the sunlight, the colour of her eyes and how they changed colour depending on what she wore. She had so many different smiles. One when she was exasperated; he saw that a lot. One that was reserved when she was around strangers. Another given to children who asked too many questions and the one that lingered after she laughed. And the rarest one; the smile she gave to those she loved.

Oh, that smile changed his life. She changed his life. Never did he think he would love with the same intensity Silena had once described to him. He had loved Rachel and had other flings after her, but with Annabeth … How could everything revolve around one person after only knowing them for a couple of months? He had considered her terribly stubborn and too proud when he had first met her. He wasn't wrong but had come to accept they were part of her, and he wouldn't change that, or anything about her.

Thalia was calling to him, but she sounded so far away, and he was ready. Ready to finally rest after being at war for so long. Surely, he deserved a break by now? His body felt weightless, and he was floating, was he? It was an odd sensation, but somewhat familiar. Not floating, being carried. More voices mingled with Thalia's. Voices of friends, of family. He couldn't leave them, didn't want to leave them but it was so hard to stay. Annabeth came back to his mind. He had lost her in the battle and what if she was waiting for him to wake up? It was going to be tough, going to hurt terribly, but he would hold on, he would stay, for his family, for her. He could hold on for just a little bit longer.


	23. Chapter 23

**As always, these characters do not belong to me.**

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

Annabeth felt cocooned. A warm, soft weight settled over her entire body with her left arm pressed against her chest. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation, just one she wasn't expecting. She was awake, but not entirely. She thought back to the battle, to the details she could remember. She wasn't sure how, but Piper had got her to her feet, practically carrying her back towards the village. Annabeth's memories were hazy at that point, blackening and hazily reforming before going to black again. They didn't make it far but then Annabeth was, gliding? No, carried.

A couple of blurry faces joined Piper's. One Annabeth couldn't make out for they never turned around but the other, light hair, glowing blue eyes? Will? Will was there. He was tending to her, and then she was being carried into a room. Annabeth had no idea where she was, nor did she really care. Their voices were raised but indistinct. Piper hovered at her side as it all faded once more.

Then she was dreaming. No, was she? It was hard to say. She could hear Piper's voice often, others also weaving with Piper's. Silena. Will. Thalia. Nico. Chris and even Clarisse. Their words were a jumble, their faces even more so. Annabeth recalled feeling hot, feverish, so it was possible she was hallucinating. Another face came to her memory. One that took a while to put a name to. They had long flowing red hair, almost like flames dancing around their head. They were smiling, green crystals floating in the middle of their face. Weird.

"Come find me when you're ready," they said. Their voice was a familiar, melodic tune. "I'll be waiting."

Annabeth fell unconscious after that, but those words continued to reverberate around her brain until the moment she found herself slowly regaining consciousness. She opened her eyes, letting them adjust to the sudden brightness. Her breaths were slow but steady, and she was relieved that it was easy to do so again. She blinked deeply, wriggling her fingers and toes, testing her movements. So far, so good.

Her left arm was in a sling and where the arrow had pierced both armour and flesh was heavily bandaged. It was tender to the touch; as was every other little movement, Annabeth discovered the hard the way. Carefully, oh so carefully, she shifted so she could sit up a little more, grunting softly as bruises and cuts were bumped or stretched. Her whole body felt as though it was one big bruise, her muscles almost groaning at being forced back to work.

But where was everybody? Had it all been one big hallucination? What about Percy? Was he okay? What if he was injured and that's why he wasn't with her? What if he … no, she couldn't think of it. He couldn't be. And Malcolm. What had happened to him? Did they get him help? Annabeth had a thousand questions running through her mind and she needed answers. She craned her head, realising with a start she was in the bedroom she had been residing in Thalia's house. She could get her answers; she just needed to get up first.

Annabeth pulled the covers aside, her fingers gently prodding the other arrow wounds on her leg and hip. Sore, yes, but manageable. With delicate and steady shifting, Annabeth swivelled her body and let her feet touch the cool floor. Another deep breath later she rose from the bed carefully, testing the strength of her legs before taking a tentative step forward. It took some effort, but Annabeth was no stranger to pushing through protesting muscles and the fatigue wasn't nearly as bad as when she was poisoned.

The door opened, causing Annabeth to glance up, and freeze. An image of Piper came to Annabeth's mind, a memory. Piper, covered in dirt and blood, eyes welled with tears as she took in the extent of Annabeth's injuries, desperately fearful that her friend was about to breathe her last breath in front of her. A blink and that fear was gone, replaced with shock and wonder shining through teary eyes. The dirt and blood was cleaned away, revealing dark purple, red and yellowing bruises and two nasty cuts on her face: one coming from her hairline and stopping above her left eyebrow and another along her jawline on the opposite side.

Injuries she received because of Annabeth's recklessness. Because Piper followed her into the fray, knowing her ulterior motives and determined to show her another way, another path out of grief. If she had died, it would have been entirely on Annabeth's shoulders, for wanting vengeance that in turn wasn't necessary. Annabeth grimaced, knowing that these were only the injuries visible, and no doubt Piper had several more.

Noticing the crinkle of guilt, Piper strode into the room, engulfing Annabeth in a constricting, but relieved, hug. The hug was returned, Annabeth hoping she could convey everything she hadn't yet said and probably wouldn't find the courage to say. The girls clung together for a long time, every emotion pouring out of the two of them as they slowly begun to heal from their ordeal.

Eventually, Annabeth pulled away, wiping tears from her eyes. "Thank you," she murmured softly. Piper, eyes also glistening, hugged her again. "That close?" Annabeth queried as Piper nodded against her shoulder.

"You gave me a real fright," Piper admitted quietly.

It was in that moment that Annabeth understood what a true bond of family could be and not the apparent one Luke had always preached they had at the Elite compound. She had a family to look after, to laugh, to love, to live with, to argue; she had found a true family.

"I suppose you have questions," Piper said, breaking their hug.

"Too many," Annabeth admitted.

Piper smiled. "We can start outside, if you're up for a walk?" Annabeth nodded, limping forward. "I think it might be time to consider that cane," Piper observed.

Annabeth chuckled softly, playfully giving her a light shove as they shuffled into the hallway. Piper headed across the hall, opening the door adjacent to hers with a soft smile.

"Malcolm," Annabeth breathed.

Malcolm was sleeping soundly in the small room, his glasses, or his spare ones at least, resting on the small table at his side. Annabeth watched the steady rise and fall of his chest as she made her way to his side, reaching out and taking his hand.

"He's been in and out of consciousness since we moved him here," Piper told her. "The infirmary was just too overcrowded, but he should heal in a week or two. He was pretty lucky, according to Will."

Annabeth nodded, all her attention on her brother as she half-heartedly scolded him. "If you'd left me after we had just gotten free …"

Annabeth trailed off, knowing she was would be slightly hypocritical if she finished the sentence. She stood beside him from another couple of minutes, just to make sure he continued to breathe evenly, before she went back to Piper, who had stepped out into the hallway to give them privacy. She noted the bandages under the opening of her shirt, and the other on her arm she was scratching irritably. Piper paused, pulling her sleeve back down when she spotted Annabeth staring.

"Don't," she said softly. She gave Annabeth's guilty gaze a small encouraging smile. "They'll heal, Annabeth." Piper stepped in front of her when she bowed her head. "How many times did you save my life back there?"

"You followed me," Annabeth replied in a hollow voice. "Because I was –."

"Do you think you're the only one that's rushed headlong into a fight because you were upset and angry?" Piper cut off. "We all have. When Jason died, I wanted everyone to hurt because I was. Hey," she said, lifting Annabeth's chin so their eyes met. "We didn't get the second chance that you've been given with your brother. Treasure it."

"But if you'd died –."

"Annabeth," Piper cut off again, but this time she was smiling. "I was the safest fighter out there because I was beside you. You may have been itching to kill every bandit and cultist you could, but you always made protecting me a priority." Annabeth's eyes widened at the statement. If that was true, she had not realised it. "The Hunters who tended to Malcolm said the same thing. They said you all should've been killed by the amount of bandits pouring onto that stage alerted by your cries for help, but you persevered and they managed to get Malcolm to the village because of you."

"But I lost Percy and …" Annabeth paused, noting Piper's slight flinch at his name. Her stomach dropped. "What happened to him?" she demanded.

"He's fine," Piper assured her quickly.

"Where is he?"

Annabeth didn't bother waiting for an answer, striding past Piper and heading for the stairs. She didn't care that her hip and leg protested as she descended. She only had thoughts on Percy and if she had to search the entire village to find him and see for herself that he was alive, then she was prepared to do it, even if her leg was not.

"Annabeth!" Piper called out, hurrying after her. "Wait! Let me help."

Piper placed a steadied hand on Annabeth's back, taking some of the weight off her leg. They reached the bottom of the stairs. Her leg flared in pain and Annabeth had to pause, clutching the banister with her good hand and leaning slightly into Piper.

"Tell me he's alive," Annabeth almost pleaded with Piper. "Because I couldn't bear it if he's –."

They walked into the living room and were met with several exclamations. Silena, Chris and Clarisse had been lounging on the sofas but leapt to their feet when Annabeth entered. Silena was the first to meet them, hugging Annabeth in a similar fashion as Piper, assuring her that despite the cuts and bruises to her face, with a bit of makeup she could make them disappear. Having no idea she had facial injuries, Annabeth simply smiled and thanked her before grasping Chris' bandaged forearm, nodding at him.

"I've been waiting an age for you to wake up!" Clarisse declared loudly. She shoved a tankard into Annabeth's hand, slapping her back hard with her free hand before wrapping her arm tightly around her shoulder. Annabeth winced while the other three all looked ready to pull her away. She made a noise in the back of her throat in protest, waving them away. "This girly deserves a drink! Did you see the way she cut through those bandits? It was poetry in motion! Are you sure you're not Arenian?"

"Clarisse, her arm's in a sling," Chris pointed out gently, trying to get her to loosen her grip.

Clarisse blew a raspberry of indifference his way. "I ain't asking her for a display," she grunted at her partner, completely missing his point. She rounded back to Annabeth. "Well?"

"I am Athena's daughter," Annabeth replied softly, realising it was the first time she had stated it out loud without being afraid to do so. She smiled a little.

"Aww, too bad. But you are welcome to our annual Arenian get togethers, I can assure you. We'll be talking about that battle for some time. They'll all be frothing that they weren't part of it." Clarisse seemed to revel in the idea.

Chris, with Silena's and Piper's help, pried Annabeth from Clarisse's grip, settling her into one of chairs as they relayed what she had missed. Despite Clarisse's best efforts, the bandits that survived the battle had fled in all directions, but reports suggested that a second surprise attack was out of the question. Lady Artemis, along with Thalia now promoted permanently to second-in-command, had supervised the capture and treatment of the wounded bandits and cultists as well as the funerals for the fallen Hunters and their allies.

The bandits and cultists bodies had been burned. The others didn't know what Lady Artemis had done with Octavian's body, but she had beheaded the Bandit King and left his head on a spike to warn other bandits from following in his footsteps. Barbaric as it sounded, Lady Artemis only left it up for half a day so word would spread before she took it down and burned it with the rest of his body.

"Percy …?" Annabeth queried.

"Resting at Piper's," Silena answered. Annabeth breathed out a soft sigh of relief. "We almost had to strap him to the bed, he was that determined to come to you. Speaking of which," Silena added, getting to her feet. "It's my turn to watch him." She smiled at Annabeth as she disappeared.

"But he's going to be okay?" Annabeth insisted, needing reassurance.

"The soft lump is too stubborn to die," Clarisse snorted, taking another deep drink from her tankard. Chris watched her wearily.

Annabeth could relax. Percy was alive. Injured, but alive. She took a small sip from her tankard, letting the mead settle her nerves.

"When can I see him?" she asked Piper.

"Best wait until you're a bit more mobile," she answered.

"Tomorrow then," Annabeth declared.

Piper sighed.

* * *

Lady Artemis called a meeting for the following morning upon hearing Annabeth had awoken. The news was relayed by Nico and Will, who had also come when Silena mentioned she had risen. Annabeth was patient as Will checked her over, sternly insisting she keep her arm in the sling for a few more days and stay off her leg as much as possible. She relented, much to his surprise and she thought this was why he was a little more forthcoming with information on Percy.

Thalia had found him after being separated due to their chariot charge, a spear shaft embedded in his side. His armour, according to the huntress, had been compromised from the sheer amount of hits it had taken and the reason the shaft was able to pierce it so easily. The culprit, to Annabeth's shock, had been Luke, who had been demanding the whereabouts of the Crystal before he was cut down from behind by a bandit.

Mixed emotions swirled through Annabeth at the mention of Luke's death. It saddened her to know that he had been killed, and the part of her that loved him would mourn that loss. She thought only of the happy moments she had experienced with him, even if at the time he wasn't entirely genuine. She ignored that and tried to see the good in him, in that friendly smile he wore when he outstretched an offering hand. The world had not been kind to Luke and she had to hope that if it had, he would have been a completely different, and happier, person.

There was one person that had shown an amazing amount of resilience to the life he was dealt and continued to show his strength. Malcolm woke a few hours after Annabeth and their reunion had been through joyous tears. He didn't want to hear about what had happened, only needing to know that she was okay, that they had won, and they would finally have the chance to be true siblings. Annabeth listened as he listed what had wanted to do with their freedom, most of which, much to her surprise and joy, involved her.

She had grown too emotional, she thought feebly as she clung to Malcolm's hand with her good one, listening to his soft snores as she too, after a while, began to nod off. She didn't fuss when Piper escorted her back to her room, the only question on her lips about Percy. After being reassured he was still fine and no doubt causing headaches for Silena as Annabeth was for Piper, she relaxed against the pillows and fell asleep almost instantly.

Annabeth wasn't sure what the time was when she woke, or what indeed caused her eyes to open. She squinted towards the door; the room lit softly with what only could be the first morning rays. She moved her shoulder, wincing a little before searching for her sling, stifling a yawn as she got up and dressed. Assuming it was Piper's footsteps she could hear outside her door, she sighed, not ready to continue the argument they were having before she had fallen asleep.

"Piper, if you bring in that cane, I swear I'm going to –."

Annabeth opened the door and froze in surprise because it wasn't Piper waiting for her. He, like the others, showed the signs of recently being in a fight. Cuts and bruises partially covered his beautiful face, but none of that mattered. Not when they moved towards each other simultaneously, not when his arms circled around her, his unique scent filling her nostrils and calming her with each second she was held. She pressed her head to his chest, his resting in the crook of her neck and she could hear him exhale a shuddering breath.

"Thank the stars that protected you," Percy murmured softly in her ear, before pulling away just enough to give her a tender smile.

It was then that she noticed his stood a little stiffer than usual, favouring one leg. His stomach was bandaged heavily, cited by a slight bulge to his side. He gently guided her hug to the other side, but he refused to let her go, refused to let her pull away entirely. She placed a featherlight touch to the side in question, and he placed his hand on top of hers, tugging it gently away again.

"He was not the Luke we knew," he told her quietly, confirming Will's words.

"I never met the Luke you knew," she admitted sadly, recalling the scenes she had witnessed in the Crystal. "I wish I had, and I wish …" she sighed, knowing that voicing it would not make it better.

"I know," he replied in understanding. "I never wanted Luke to suffer, despite our last, _proper_, conversation. I had wanted something better for him too, but he would never would have accepted help. And I can't be too sorry he is gone, because if he was still alive, he would try and kill you, and I would have to kill him because of that."

"Perce," she murmured, her eyes crinkling in concern, but Percy was having none of that. Placing two fingers under her chin, he lifted her face as he lowered his, his kiss soft, reassuring.

"I'm okay," he assured her quietly. "I just don't want anything happening to you. But are you okay? I saw, when Malcolm was slashed …" He trailed off.

"Yeah," she confirmed his unspoken query, her eyes dropping for the briefest of seconds. "I was reminded, quite firmly, that there were others who loved me and needed me."

"And don't you ever forget it," Piper said from the stairs. A faint smile was on her lips. "You two ready to go? I don't think our tardiness would be appreciated."

Silena, Piper and Malcolm, confined to a rather stocky and bulky looking wheelchair, waited by the door. Annabeth didn't like the idea of Malcolm attending, especially since he had escaped death only a few days ago, but he was insistent, stubborn and determined to be in attendance and she could hardly argue when it was pointed out she would be the same. Silena's narrowed gaze was on Percy as they descended, him trying his best to appear nonchalant.

"How's your wound?" Silena directed, clearly not thrilled with his presence.

"Can barely feel it," Percy said breezily. Annabeth could hear the strain to his voice that contradicted his words.

Silena scoffed, clearly not believing his blasé attitude. Annabeth looked to Piper, who shook her head in a, 'you don't really want to know' sort of way. "So, if I remove your jacket, I won't find the stitches busted?" Silena continued her interrogation.

"Nope."

Silena scoffed again, chuckling a little as well as she shook her head, leading the others out. Piper took the handles of Malcolm's chair, pushing him along but not before sharing a look with Annabeth that had them both turning away, suppressing smiles.

"I may have tried to play the unbearably lovesick card on Silena this morning," Percy answered Annabeth's silent demand sheepishly. "I guess she didn't fall for it as much as I thought. Shall we?"

The small party made their way through the streets, Percy saying nothing but simply staring at her, eyes glinting with that hidden smile when she would meet his gaze. Daring to be bold, Annabeth reached out, brushing her fingers against his cheek. He reached up and took her hand, kissing her knuckles softly before threading his fingers through hers. Shying at the attention they were receiving from villagers, Annabeth relaxed when she realised the stares were mainly due to their injuries and efforts on the battlefield, not so much for the open display of affection. Deciding Annabeth wasn't uncomfortable enough, Percy, after a playful grin in her direction, kissed her lightly on the forehead, laughing when she pushed him away, blushing.

Annabeth noticed that Percy wasn't the only one laughing. There was an easy air to the streets now that the threat of invasion was gone. The children were playing and squealing with laughter and happiness in the streets, their parents back to scolding how loud they were being. Others simply went back to work, another day with another set of crops to harvest or plant but there was banter amongst the workers, and life was settling back to normal.

There was still a sense of sadness and grief, but the villagers were moving forward, and doing so as one, making Annabeth wonder what her next step forward would be. The Elites were finished and despite wanting to head back to the compound to retrieve a few things, she had no other interest or concern regarding them. The most obvious answer was to join Percy and wherever he decided to go, but, although the idea had a lot of appeal, something nagged at the back of her mind that made her hesitant to fully accept it.

"If I gave you a token to wear, would you?" he asked curiously as they approached Lady Artemis' house.

Annabeth's eyes drifted to him at the question, noticing his attention fixed on the worn white fabric tied protectively against her wrist. It had survived, tucked as it was in her bracer when she was disguised as a bandit guard. She had thought that it would have been blemished beyond fixing, ripped, torn and left on the battlefield but it remained on her wrist, clean and pure, reminding Annabeth that despite the ugliness of battle and death, there was always a reason to fight for those who deserved better, who deserved happiness.

Annabeth thought about it. "I guess it depends on what it is," she replied.

"Well, it's going to be huge, like so big that anyone at the end of the street would notice it," he embellished, gesturing wildly as they walked. He grinned at her scowl as Piper shook her head, pulling ahead of them. "I do have something in mind," he admitted seriously. "Something small, convenient for your needs. You forget I know you," he added with a smile.

Annabeth tried not to blush again, her lips quirking. "I suppose I wouldn't mind. What about you?"

"Oh, I don't need one," he said lightly. "Not once I get my payment."

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. "Payment?"

"Oh yes," he said, mock serious. "For services rendered. I distinctly remember bringing it up when we first met and were discussing terms."

"Oh?" Annabeth said, humouring him. She tried to appear serious but couldn't help her smile. "And what is the estimated fee I owe?"

"Let's see," he said, rubbing his jaw in thought before mumbling to himself, though loud enough for Annabeth to hear. "There was Octavian – the first time," he added pointedly. Annabeth made an angry noise in the back of her throat. "Circe, well, deduct for that," he said hastily when Annabeth gave him a pointed stare. "But there was the horse. And you choosing my death over a village, minus other expenses … So, it should come to two hundred gold pieces."

Annabeth scoffed. "No one is worth that."

"Fine, fine," he said in submission. He smirked. "I'll settle, instead, for two hundred kisses. Deal?"

Annabeth felt her own lips pull up into a smile as she leaned in, her fingers trailing up his arm and across his jaw. "That's a hefty fee. I'm going to be paying off that debt for a long time, I expect. Is that going to be a problem?"

Percy's eyes with lit up with his wolfish grin. "I think we can work something out. Did I mention that the first instalment of your payment is due now?"

Annabeth pressed her lips to his, already compiling her own service fees and what payment he would be required to pay her. Percy pulled her close, his hands tracing around her waist and up her back as he placed another kiss against her lips and she almost forgot they were in public.

"Oi! Lovebirds!" They broke apart, turning to see Clarisse grinning at them, Chris, Will, Nico and Silena behind her. "Douse yourselves in cold water and hurry up! I have a piss-up I want to attend after this!"

"Did the wagon of ale actually find it's way here?" Percy asked in surprise as they hurried along. "Every single barrel?"

"Yep," Chris said, his smile more victorious. Annabeth found out why. "Pay up."

Percy scrunched up his nose to Annabeth, fishing for his coin pouch. "Maybe we should negotiate the two hundred gold pieces."

Annabeth rolled her eyes as Percy handed over the coins and the tight-knit family headed into Lady Artemis' house. The interior was small and simple; just a house and the bare necessities a person who was hardly ever home needed. It was obvious that Lady Artemis preferred exploring and travelling, with much of the furniture covered in cloths and dust, though it appeared to be hastily cleaned in preparation for the meeting.

A side room on the lower floor had been transformed into a meeting room of sorts. Maps of all territories, hunting grounds and of the surrounding lands lined the walls, along with several prized bows, arrows and tokens from previous leaders and noted Hunters. A round and roughly crafted wooden table sat in the centre, with just as raw and elegant wooden chairs around it. Thalia and Reyna, along with three other Hunters were all inside and seated when the others arrived, Lady Artemis pacing as she talked privately to Thalia, her second.

"Visitors, please," Lady Artemis greeted, gesturing they take seats.

The meeting, much to Clarisse's delight, was short. It seemed that one minute they were taking their seats at the table and the next they were heading out towards a large cleared area on the back side of the village, where a large unlit bonfire was waiting for nightfall. Annabeth stood beside Percy and Piper, Malcolm not too far away talking to a Hunter that she assumed was one of his contacts. A tankard had been forcefully pushed into each of their hands by a very determined Arenian, that had stated in no uncertain terms that they had better not waste it by letting it sit for too long in the cup.

Taking a sip after feeling a glare in her direction, Annabeth thought about the meeting as the big cheer went up with the ignition of the bonfire, hitting them with a wave of heat. Lady Artemis had not blamed her for the arrival of Octavian and his fanatics, nor held her responsible for the deaths of the allies, even after hearing Annabeth's story from the beginning. She cited that the fanatics and bandits would have made their way to the village regardless, considering they had tricked her and trapped her around the same time Annabeth had re-joined the Elites. If it wasn't for the actions of the allies, she had said, then the results could have been a lot worse.

Percy kissed her gently on the forehead, murmuring to her gently before heading off towards the other side of the fire, where Reyna was talking quietly with a few other Hunters. Silena joined her and Piper shortly after, dragging Piper away so she wouldn't cop the brunt of Clarisse's attempts of brute coercion. Annabeth watched the women disappear amongst the villagers, her eyes moving back to where Reyna and Percy talked. The She-Wolf appeared more relaxed and content as she conversed with her ex-mercenary partner, even offering him a smile in response to a his words, which Annabeth put down to her new purpose as a Hunter recruit and second-in-command to Thalia.

Speaking of, Annabeth sought out the Hunter, finding her surveying her comrades from a spot not far from Annabeth. Making her way over, Annabeth spotted Nico and Will sitting in a shadowy spot, heads bent towards each other talking quietly while Chris tried to have a conversation with a few of the villagers and simultaneously watch Clarisse as she challenged several hunters to roll of dice, only to have to rush over to prevent an argument from boiling over into something else. Thalia watched the argument with a hint of amusement on her face, her eyes meeting Annabeth's once she was a few feet away.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," Thalia said with a smirk.

"I was told I have you to thank for that," Annabeth replied, clanking her tankard against Thalia's.

Annabeth, along with Malcolm and Percy, had lost a lot of blood and being true-borns, needed specific blood to replenish what was lost. Thalia and Nico had copped the brunt of donations being the only other true-borns, but they had understood and never once complained: well, never with intent.

"Yeah, well, when I need blood you better fucking be there with your arm out," she warned.

"I can do that," Annabeth promised. She gazed out at the celebrations, getting an eerie sense of not quite being part of it. "My condolences about Zoë and the other fallen Hunters," she said quietly.

Zoë's final burial place was in a cave reserved for only those given the highest honour for a Hunter. Her tale would be carved on a stone tablet and placed with her body, so those that came after would know of her dedication and bravery. The other Hunters, whose death was no less tragic, where buried with the others of their kin.

Thalia looked sombre as she took a sip. "They died with honour, protecting their people and their homes. It's not your fault, Annabeth," she added seriously. "That fanatic started this when he imprisoned Lady Artemis." She echoed her leader's word before taking another long draught, as did Annabeth. "Oh, found this," she added, pulling from her belt Annabeth's knife. Annabeth took it, huffing in wondrous surprise. She had thought for sure she had lost it. "Thought you might want it back." Thalia's grin was knowing. "So," she started, after taking a long drink of her tankard. "What's next for the true-born Athenian?"

Annabeth smiled at her mocking title. "I don't know. I suppose go with Percy back to his village."

"But you're not sure if that's what you want to do right away?" Thalia sounded as if she knew exactly how Annabeth was feeling. She gazed out towards the party. "You need to do what's best for you," she stated quietly. "And what you want, not what others want for you." She turned and gave her a smile. "There's still plenty of spots here as a hunter. All you have to do is recite the words."

Annabeth smiled, silent as she processed Thalia's advice. "It's tempting," she admitted, as her glance found Percy, who smiled at her as Clarisse wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him towards a barrel. "But I don't think it's for me."

"I get it," Thalia said smiling. She finished her tankard, belched, then licked her lips, surveying the wagon not far from where they were before clapping her hands together. "Come on," she said with a grin that looked all too similar to Percy's when he was plotting something. "This is supposed to be a celebration and there's an Arenian I can't wait to drink under the table!"

* * *

"_Come find me when you're ready."_

Annabeth jerked herself awake, gasping into the early morning rays, then groaning and clutching her head. She had drunk way too much at the bonfire. She took several calming breaths, ignoring the dull throbbing of her head and trying not to throw up. She vowed to never again drink with Clarisse, or Thalia for that matter, who did indeed drink a certain Arenian under the table, and everyone else.

"_Come find me when you're ready."_

The voice echoed in her head, remnants of the dream … no, a memory. Similar to those that she had experienced with the Crystal. Was the dampener failing? No, that wasn't it, otherwise her mind would be splitting apart. Steadying her erratic heartbeat, Annabeth closed her eyes, letting the memory envelop her. When she opened them again, she was up and moving, changing silently to avoid disturbing a still slumbering Percy. Making her way out of the village, she headed to the place where she knew, without being able to explain why, that she needed to go.

The air was cool, and a pleasant wind brushed her face and ruffled her hair lightly as she entered the forest. There were no hunter roosts or tree walkways above her, letting dappled sunlight direct her to a tiny clearing, where a hooded figure waited. Annabeth took a deep breath when she paused in front of the person, her eyes hardening a fraction towards them.

"It was all you," Annabeth accused. "Everything over the past few months happened because of you."

Rachel was smiling serenely when she removed her hood, revealing herself to Annabeth. Though she hadn't yet seen it, Annabeth could feel the aura of the Crystal surrounded them. She repressed her shudder, keeping her hard gaze on the seer. It had taken her sudden waking and the walk for Annabeth put all the pieces together, but the accusation she flung at Rachel didn't appear to have the affect she had intended. Rachel wasn't remorseful for her actions, making Annabeth hesitate ever so slightly and doubt she had the entire picture.

So, she told Rachel all she knew. That it was the seer that persuaded Luke to turn his attentions to the Crystal, knowing full well he was losing the trust and loyalty of his followers. He could not go himself, but only his most loyal and best fighter would be able to retrieve the sacred item. She would need guidance from an ex-Elite who knew all too well the power the Crystal and the Cave possessed. In Luke's eyes, Percy was information and a step ahead of those who sought to take it as well, but for Rachel's purpose, he would be apply enough doubt that Annabeth would begin questioning her orders and hesitate before taking the Crystal and driving herself to insanity.

Rachel remained silent, encouraging Annabeth to continue with a slight cock of her head. Annabeth had struggled to understand why the seer had intervened, why it was she that had to be manipulated in such a way, but then …

"I had thought you were manipulating the circumstances that you had seen," Annabeth admitted, her gaze at the seer. "And that's what confused me. When we met, you didn't seem the type. Strange," she added, and Rachel smiled. "But not selfish."

It was after comparing Rachel's actions to that of Octavian's that Annabeth realised it was all to do with perspective. The seer had seen the countless possible futures, only intervening to nudge, coerce or suggest another choice. The decision was left up to the person, to accept the cryptic message or to cast it aside. That was the difference between Rachel and Octavian; she made decisions that would benefit all, whereas Octavian, and even Luke, strode to do only what would be in their own best interests.

Octavian. It was his greed, his thirst for power that had forced Rachel's hand. He was never a true seer, and it was this hindrance, this flaw, that had always bothered him. He caught glimpses, enough to give him some repute, but never the clear picture. Was he outcasted because of it? No one would know.

He knew the power of the Crystal, and he knew he wouldn't have been able to take it for himself. That was why he had taken Percy and why he rallied so many to his side when he heard someone else was attempting to take it. All he had to do was wait until the Crystal was removed from the Cave and he would then take it for himself. Except he had not expected another seer, a true seer, to guide a resistance to face him, and ultimately, destroy him.

"What will you do with the Crystal?" Annabeth asked.

Rachel withdrew her hands from her cloak, revealing the Crystal. Annabeth wanted to recoil, but she noticed how Rachel held it, without any hint of discomfort or pain. To the seer, it was merely an object, a conduit for her power to controlled and directed. Rachel smiled at her curiosity, staring down at the Crystal. After a hesitant glance at Rachel, Annabeth took a tentative step forward. Not daring to get too close, Annabeth stared at the glossy surface of the bowl, hearing the same buzzing she heard in the Cave, only now knowing it to be the sound of the thousands of possible futures playing out at once.

"It will be returned to a more secure location," she answered, her voice as melodic as ever.

"Returned? So, the Cave …?"

"Was a shrine devoted to its power by a seer who had selfishly believed they were the only one to wield it. While seers are rare, their abilities are not unique." She gazed down at the surface of the Crystal fondly. "It has waited a long time."

"You can communicate with it?" Annabeth asked with a raised eyebrow. Rachel smiled mysteriously but didn't answer. Annabeth shook her head in disbelief, not understanding.

"Athenian to the core," Rachel said, though not unkindly. "Even after all you have experienced, you still have trouble opening your mind to such possibilities. Gifts aren't meant to be questioned, Annabeth, just accepted."

With great difficulty, Annabeth nodded. It would drive her insane trying to find a plausible answer to the thousands of questions the seer had given her. As much as her curiosity was piqued, she knew she would have to accept that she will never know, or even begin to understand a seer's Sight or their trinkets. It was this reason that Rachel had called to Annabeth, asked her to come and see her. She needed to understand the role she had played, understand why Rachel had done what she did and understand that so much of it would remain a mystery.

"I have seen not seen our paths cross again," Rachel told her. "So, this will be farewell. Though the future is a fickle thing, we may yet be required to combine our services again." Rachel placed her hood back over her head, tucking the Crystal once more from view. "Do not fret about the decisions made deep within your heart, Annabeth. I suspect you will find the happiness you have longed for, in one way or another."

Rachel turned to leave; her footfalls silent as she glided back towards the shadows of the forest.

"Wait!" Annabeth called out. Rachel paused and turned. "Back at the Elite compound, you said I had a choice. I made that, but what I want to do next contradicts that very choice, does it not?"

"If it is validation you are after, I cannot give you that," Rachel responded. "Only you can do that. Does it feel like the right thing to do?"

* * *

Annabeth thought about Rachel's words a lot the three days after she had disappeared again. She had confided in Percy the majority of what they had discussed, leaving out the end part and giving an even briefer version to the others, most of which didn't find the information all too surprising. Lady Artemis had wanted to meet with Rachel after hearing the truth but had so far been unable to track the seer, growing frustrated and a little awed by the feat.

With the Hunters safe and a message from their own people demanding word of the outcome, the tight-knit family were preparing to leave. Percy was going with them, after several (though, only a couple heated!) arguments with Silena that he was needed back at home at least for a few months until everything else had calmed down and they could resume growing and trading negotiations. Annabeth had yet to be asked to join him and she had been thankful for the delay because deep down, she knew her answer wouldn't be yes.

The day before they were scheduled to leave, Annabeth was wandering the forest on the outskirts of the village, trying to find Percy. Silena had been growing increasingly frustrated by his lack of interest securing supplies and after a quick discussion, Will had thought it best that Annabeth be the one to fetch him instead of having to hear Silena's screams across the entire village. While Silena argued that she did not screech, Nico had murmured Percy's hiding place to Annabeth, letting her slip quietly away before anything escalated.

Percy's hiding place was a fallen moss covered trunk sitting atop a small hill that overlooked the village. He watched her approach with a soft smile, his eyes still on her even after she sat beside him, unable to return his gaze.

"It's a nice view," she stated, breaking the silence. She clenched her hands into fists, keeping them at her side.

"You should see the one at home," Percy replied, causing Annabeth's heart to constrict with the way he said 'home'. "There's the ocean to one side," he told her, gesturing with his hands. "Then the forest to the other. And, if you turn, the whole village and the land beyond. Once the sun hits the right spot, especially on sunset, it's like a world in itself."

"Silena's getting antsy about leaving tomorrow," Annabeth said quietly.

Percy sighed. "I figured as much. She thinks I'll run away in the night," he added with a rueful smile before sighing again. "But she's right. It is time I returned home. And while part of it is so the Stolls' don't ruin my house," he smiled again at that. "I have no real reason not to. Not anymore."

Annabeth wished she could share the smile he gave her, wished she could give him the answer he wanted to hear. She had averted her gaze, opting to look instead towards the village rather than see the expression on his face, but when nothing else was said, she couldn't help but peek … to find his expression knowing, and somewhat understanding.

"You're not coming with us," he stated. "With me."

"For most of my life," Annabeth began. "I've gone where I had to, gone where I was ordered to, but I've never really _seen_ the places I've been. I have never just, stopped, and found time to enjoy myself and what there is to offer. And while I know I would love travelling with you, and discovering it all with you …"

"You need to find yourself without the help of a man," he finished, smiling in understanding. "And I need to go home." He kissed her forehead. "At least something I said got through to you." He chuckled lightly. "Find who you want to be, for you. If anyone deserves that, it's you."

"You're not upset?"

"I'm sad I won't be with you," he admitted, eyes shining. "And I'll miss you terribly, but no. I understand why you need to do it."

Eyes glistening with tears, Annabeth leant forward, finding his lips even as a single tear fell down her cheek. He pulled back, kissing away the tear before kissing both her eyelids, resting his forehead against hers.

"I wanted to do this when you arrived at the village but I think you should have it now," he said, clearing his throat a little before digging into his pocket and pulling out a leather band.

Taking it from his offering hand, the leather band was in fact a necklace. Simple in design and probably made quickly from throwaway bits of leather from the smith, Annabeth was more interested in what was tied to the band. Seeing the token he had proposed days ago, Annabeth gazed at him, too surprised to thank him.

"When did you get this made?" she asked, her fingers delicately touching the bead, its colour a greyish blue.

"After Arachne poisoned you," he stated with a slight shrug. "When you woke." Annabeth stared at him in shock. He had got a token made for her weeks ago? "I couldn't afford any of the metal pieces," he apologised, as her stunned gazed fell back on the bead. "But the smith said the clay will last just as long, sometimes longer if it's looked after."

"It's beautiful," she breathed. She looked at him, feeling a little guilty when she admitted, "I haven't got anything you."

"Ah. You see," he started hesitantly. "I sort of took it upon myself to order two at the time." From under his shirt he pulled out at similar necklace. His bead was greener in colour, offset nicely with the colour of his eyes. "So, we match," he added, giving her a soft smile. He twisted the bead nervously in his fingers and it was then that Annabeth caught sight of a small engraving. She grabbed the bead, her finger running over the 'A' that was carved into the middle of his bead. "I saw the mark on the knife you gave the girl," he explained. "I hope it's okay I placed the same one on my bead. I want people to see that I am yours, now and forever."

Annabeth let the bead drop back down over his shirt, almost lost for words. Eventually she said, after placing her own necklace over her head, letting it settle over her shirt where it rested just above her heart. "Are you sure you want to be tied to an Athenian?"

"Absolutely," he stated plainly.

Annabeth kissed him, kissed him until her heart wasn't beating frantically from anxiety, but from something else. She traced the contours of his face, committed the feel of his hair through her fingers to memory, along with the taste and feel of his lips. They broke apart, Percy's eyes scanning hers and then her face, her hair, her body, giving her a small, but strained smile when he met her gaze again.

"I'll wait for you," he promised. His thumb caressed her cheek. "However long you need, I'll be waiting at the village, on the hill every sunset, until you come back to me. Until you come back _home_."

He emphasised the last word, waiting until Annabeth nodded before kissing her again, then again on the top of her head when she snuggled into his side, his arm wrapping around her tightly as the other gripped hers, resting on his leg.

"Besides," he said, trying to make his tone light, though it wobbled. "You still have debts to pay."

Annabeth laughed shakily, blinking away her tears as they continued to watch the village below, savouring their time together.


	24. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_Three months later._

The sun was receding from it's high point in the sky as the travellers made their way along the new road. Annabeth, taking up the rear position of the group, watched with a trained eye as their horse's hooves beat rhythmically against the dirt. She wasn't expecting trouble, in fact, the companions hadn't encountered any issues with bandits or thieves since their journey north-west. It was merely an old habit Annabeth doubted she would ever lose. She surveyed their surroundings mainly as a distraction from her building nerves.

The front rider slowed her horse to a walk, turning back to give Annabeth a smile, her newly braided eagle feather lightly beating against her shoulder with the movement. Her eyes were bright against the tan of her skin and Annabeth thought she appeared happier than she was when they first met. For the two women looking for an escape, an adventure without the restraints of orders or grief, travelling together seemed the only logical choice. It turned out to be a blessing for both parties.

Piper led them down a splintered part of the road, slightly overgrown with the lack of traffic. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, Malcolm swivelled to pull out his notebook, balancing it against his saddle to continue his letter to one of his contacts. He had joined the two women a month into their travels, having need to take care of some business of his own first. It had been strange at first for the two siblings, but soon they fell into a comfortable routine and Annabeth would miss his presence when he left again once another Athenian had been found. So far, they were still the only true-borns on record, but Malcolm suspected they were at least two more in hiding he was determined to find and meet.

As they moved closer towards the village, Annabeth had a hard time concentrating on anything apart from the person who awaited her inside. It was a strange feeling, to be entering the place she knew to be home but had yet to lay eyes on. She had drawings recreated from Piper's hearty descriptions inside her new sketch book, purchased by her brother after the loss of her old book at the Elite compound. The couple of week's return travel she had memorised each drawing; from the entrance of the village, to the arrangement of houses, stalls and workstations and Percy's small cottage: she had glanced at that one a lot.

Percy. She reached down and grabbed the small bead hanging around her neck, worrying it across the string. She had written several letters to him during her journey, most ending up torn and burnt. The couple that she did send said very little, her words always seeming to vanish before she could write them down. He had never been far from her mind and there were some moments when she wished she was experiencing it with him, but overall she was glad that she had gone out and saw the villages, people and places with a traveller's eye, rather than a fighter's or a thief's.

The back-boundary entrance loomed ahead. As Piper had described, it was non-descript, used only for the locals and was a means to escape if necessary. It was there they had to be careful of the snares and traps laid for unwanted visitors by the Stoll brothers, but Piper confidently led them forward, hoping they would slip into the village before Silena had time to organise an elaborate welcome home party.

Two enormous and ancient looking trees served as the back-entrance gates and Annabeth's nerves fluttered as they came into the shadow of their canopy. There was a light rustling amongst the branches upon approach and Annabeth could hear light, chirpy voices that followed. There was a 'shush', silence, followed by a gasp and squeal. Annabeth thought she heard Piper chuckle.

"Juniper is going to have a fit," she murmured quietly, snorting with amusement. "She's told them countless times not to climb trees."

"Piper!"

"Piper's back!"

Three small bundles toppled from the branches, landing lightly on their feet before racing towards Piper's horse. The kids, obviously siblings, were chatting excitedly as the newcomers approached, their dirtied faces turned up in big, and in the older boy's case, toothless grins. Piper was bombarded with information as she slid from her saddle, bracing herself for the onslaught. Annabeth and an amused Malcolm copied her, hanging back as to not frighten them, though they didn't appear to notice.

"I lost my front teeth!" the older boy stated, pointing at the gap in his mouth.

"Look I found a feather and braided it in my hair just like you!" the girl said, pushing her brother aside and grabbing Piper's hand.

"I have a pet frog!" the youngest stated happily.

The three children vied for Piper's attention, who knelt and appeared to listen to each of them intently, handing Malcolm the reins of her horse so their excitement wouldn't unsettle them. Their fingers brushed and Annabeth noticed a slight reddening on her brother's and Piper's cheeks with the latter grinning. Malcolm studiously ignored his sister's demanding stare, taking a lot of interest in the children's nonsensical news.

"I thought your Mother told you not to climb the trees close to the border entrance?" Piper asked with a raised eyebrow. The smiles on the kids face dropped like a stone in the water.

"You don't have to tell her," the eldest suggested, getting frantic nods in reply.

Piper appeared to think over his suggestion, making exaggerated thinking gestures. "You guys should've learned from the last time you were caught climbing these trees," she said. "Why were you out here again?"

"We were just looking out for you, as promised," the girl piped up, her brothers agreeing quickly after.

Piper glanced over to the Athenian siblings, a smile bordering on an impatient grimace directed towards them. They, noticing Piper's attention diverted, mimicked her and spotted the arrival of strangers. Rather than shy away, they embraced them with excited squeals almost tackling Malcolm into his horse with their enthusiasm.

"I see Auntie Silena has been telling her stories again," Piper observed, trying not to laugh at Malcolm's tentative head pats.

"And Uncle Percy," the girl stated, grabbing Annabeth's hand and inspecting the white bandanna tied to her wrist.

"Uncle Percy?" Annabeth questioned as her heart quickened. The children had been a good distraction but once his name was mentioned, her nerves returned.

"Yeah," the youngest brother replied. With a lot of insistence, he was placed on top of Malcolm's horse. "He's at the hill now, sitting at his spot."

"He's been doing that for ages," the eldest said from Annabeth's either side, pausing in his attempt to take her knife to scrunch up his face. One well placed glare had him shying back towards Piper, his hands firmly tucked against his side.

"He says he's waiting for someone, but we haven't seen them yet," the youngest added, enthusiastically whipping the reins. The horse he was sitting on didn't appear impressed.

"That's why we were in the tree," the girl added in case they forgot.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Piper demanded lightly. She gestured with a nod in the direction, giving her a knowing smile.

Annabeth gave her a smile of thanks, glancing towards Malcolm who gave her an encouraging smile. She untangled herself from the girl's grip before making her way towards the hill. Butterflies flooded her stomach and she had to take deep calming breaths as she crossed the field, taking in the village just ahead. It was quaint, but Annabeth could see the character in the individual cottages and houses. She would have time to examine them later, but for the moment, she had somewhere else she wanted to be.

The hill wasn't steep, but Annabeth was a little winded as she trekked her way towards it summit. A tree stood slightly bowed at the top and underneath … Annabeth paused metres away, tears springing to her eyes that she hastily blinked away. She took a steadying breath, then another, unable to take her eyes from the figure that sat on an exquisitely made chair. His back was to her, but he sat patiently, waiting serenely for her, just as he promised.

Sensing her gaze, the man turned. If Annabeth thought she had stopped breathing before, she definitely had the moment their eyes met. He had not changed, and the few months without him fell away as if they never happened. The light in his eyes grew brighter and a tentative smile formed on his lips as he took in her presence before him. She grew courage from that smile and took the remaining steps towards him in a daze. Percy rose to his feet, the sunset bathing him in a golden aura. He stretched out his hand, which she took with shaking fingers. His smile broadened, eyes full of light and love as he said,

"Welcome home."

**Author's note:**

**Where to begin? What was planned to be only a ten – thirteen max chapter story turned out to be double what I imagined. It has been a slog, with moments of frustrating re-writes, writer's block and the culling of several scenarios I had in mind, but now that I have finally finished it, I can say it was worth it! A huge thanks to everyone who firstly read my story, then followed and favorited it. I can not say I will be forever appreciative enough. It gives me courage that when I finally have my own stories published, that they may be someone out in the world that will enjoy it. Don't be hesitant to leave a review, positive or critical (but please, make it constructive rather than just plain negative); it may seem small, but it all helps me improve for future stories.**

**Thanks again for reading, and I hope you enjoyed The Heart Is A Muscle.**

**The backupkid.**


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